


Dark Fate

by FeedMeHardy



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: F/F, Terminator: Dark Fate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeedMeHardy/pseuds/FeedMeHardy
Summary: Terminator: Dark Fate, but make it Héloïse and Marianne. With the participation of Sarah Connor, but no Arnold Schwarzenegger.Couldn't decide who would make the better augmented super-soldier from the future, so why not both? Choose your fighter: chapter one for Héloïse, chapter two for Marianne.
Relationships: Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Choose your fighter! 
> 
> Héloïse as the augmented super-soldier from the future? [Choose chapter one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972693/chapters/63139381%22). 
> 
> Marianne as the augmented super-soldier from the future? [Choose chapter two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972693/chapters/63139408).

Co-ordinates a bit off, Héloïse reflects, thick-headed and bleary from the trip, while she bounces off the iron struts of the bridge and thumps to the floor a full hundred feet away. Coming to rest in the dust, groaning a little, stretching her limbs, the incredible headache making itself felt.

"Hey!" someone yells and she wishes they would stop. "Hey, lady!"

The shuffle of feet. "Fuck, is she alive?"

Héloïse moves a little in response and the feet shrink away. She can hear the blaring horns up on the bridge. A naked woman appearing in an icy bubble would have drawn far more attention up there. She struggles to a sitting position. Her limbs are stiff, vision blurred, head pounding. It will pass, she remembers, hating the vulnerability of waiting.

The feet are still hovering around her peripheral vision. She reaches out, lightning-fast, grabs a shin, then a belt, then a shoulder, pulling herself upright. 

"Where am I?" She is aiming for a growl, for intimidation, but it comes out slurred. Still intimidating enough as her victim tries to flee, but is pinned down.

"Calais!" he gasps.

Co-ordinates were close enough, then. Right city at least. It's dark, she notices. She looks the guy in the eye. "Would you look at that, we're the same height."

... 

"Rise and shine!" Marianne calls to her brother, throwing his backpack to him, perhaps more _at_ him, as he snores away. She's been up since before dawn reading the news, chatting to the locals in the stores below their crappy AirBnB, going over the pictures from yesterday, emailing editors.

"Why though?" Ethan grumbles. He changes his shirt while Marianne goes through her bag again. Checks her lenses, her spare batteries. 

They pile into the shoddy minivan with everyone else heading out to the refugee camp. 

"And what angle are you going to try on security today?" Ethan asks her.

"I've got an email from an editor at Die Zeit. Might be enough." Doesn't hurt to be optimistic either.

"Is it a press badge?"

He knows full well it is not. "Have a little faith, Ethan." She pats him excitedly on the leg. "Today could be the day! An exposé. Show the world what's going on here."

Evidently he's heard this plenty of times before. "It's not that people don't _know_ , Marianne, it's that they don't _care_." He puts his head back and pulls his cap down over his eyes.

"We're going to make them care." Marianne is aware that people are looking at her now and trying to edge away which is tricky considering they are jammed into the seats pretty well. They don't want to be anywhere near an exposé and she doesn't blame them. 

At the camp Marianne tries the potential paper angle, does not work. Tries a little light flirting, goes a little further, but no luck at getting in. So they spend the morning sitting at a truck stop not far from the checkpoint. Ethan is trying to sleep on the picnic table. Marianne sits, camera out, watching, waiting. 

...

In a loading bay behind the store over which Marianne's rental sits, a freezing sphere appears, crackling and cracking the windows on nearby cars.

Within, a burly naked man.

...

Héloïse walks fast. She always walked fast. Now, she has augmented muscles making her stronger, an artificially powered heart, bionic lungs. Now, she walks really fast. Scanning the road, her optical implants zooming in, giving her an almost bewildering clarity.

The guy whose clothes she commandeered had terrible fashion sense, but she could hardly see straight at the time and the situation had been urgent. She stuffs her hands into the hoodie pockets. Keeps scanning, keeps moving.

At the end of the road there is a checkpoint and random civilians, especially ones with no documents, certainly aren't getting past. Not this close to the border and the tunnel. Héloïse has read about this. 

She approaches the booth, open and honest-looking, before knocking the two guards' heads together. A third in the back she swings against the wall and lets slide down. She strips him off and gets dressed again. No guns here. She really needs a gun.

Now far more suitably camouflaged she strides out again. Ties up the three guards though someone will notice soon and raise the alarm. She needs to move faster. Out the back is a patrol motorcycle. Much more like it. Pulls up behind the booth by the gates to the camp. Tries to saunter to the booth. Leans in the doorway. "Looking for a photographer came up here this morning."

"Tall, dark-haired one? Beautiful pain in the ass?" The guard laughs with his friend. The hairs on Héloïse's arms rise. Do _not_ crack their heads together, she reminds herself. No need. Even for that.

"Gone over that way," he points. Mutters something to his companion that Héloïse, were she a normal person, would not have been able to hear, but she has super-hearing so she cracks their heads together. 

While they lie slumped over the desk she barges through the door into the back room and ignores the combination on the gun safe in favor of ripping the door off. Drapes her jacket over her shoulder to hide the gun at least a little and heads out in the direction of Marianne.

...

Marianne still sits, waiting, as a man approaches. Naturally observant, her eyes flick over him. He looks at her like he knows her. She's never seen him in her life, she's sure of it. A potential source, an ally? Or someone making trouble?

Her hand goes back over the table. "Ethan." She doesn't take her eyes off the approaching figure. "Ethan." She shakes at Ethan's arm.

Something strange is happening. The man's arm is glistening, shining, it is metallic now, moving over itself. He's raising it up. It's forming into a gun, not an arm at all, but a weapon being pointed straight at her. Before Marianne can react to this there's a gunshot. She flinches instinctively, waits for the pain. Another gunshot and the man in front of her wheels sideways, losing his balance. His arm swings and the gun goes off in Marianne's direction. She feels the shock of it, but still no pain.

Another gunshot and she looks across to a security guard striding over, gun pointed at the man, unleashing shot after shot. Marianne is aware of Ethan behind her scrambling and grabbing at her. The man is on the floor and the security guard shoots his face point-blank. There's no blood, Marianne thinks weakly. Just that flowing metal.

Suddenly time catches up with her. The security guard, a woman, is bending over her.

"We have to go, now," she says urgently. Takes Marianne's shoulder. "Marianne, now."

Marianne is forcibly lifted from her seat. The woman has an arm around her, is propelling her forward.

"Wait, what - what's going on?" Marianne tries to stop, to look at the dead man, to figure out what is happening.

"Get on the bike," Marianne is instructed, the security guard indicating a motorbike lying on its side. 

"Where are you taking her?" Ethan is right there.

The security guard looks at him, looks at Marianne, takes them both by the collar. "Fine, a truck." 

They are half-pushed, half-winched, over to a truck which the horrified owner is all too happy to vacate for them. "In," the woman commands. She keeps looking over her shoulder. Marianne looks too, understands why. The shooter is still on the floor but his body is moving somehow. His head shines metallic and there's no way he can possibly be alive, but he is.

The truck speeds off, wheels skidding, the driver frowning. 

...

Héloïse's blood is pumping with a painful ferocity. This is it. It's happening. Everything led her here, but she's on her own now.

"What is happening?" asks poor, bewildered Marianne. 

"What's happening is you are going to be killed unless we keep moving."

"The fuck?" The guy, must be the brother, shouts. 

Héloïse tries to watch the rearview mirror and the road ahead and Marianne. "Are you alright?"

"No," Marianne replies, incredulous.

"But are you hurt?"

"No. Are you?"

It hurts, everything hurts. But nothing in particular. Marianne asking hurts. Seeing Marianne here, now, hurts. 

Héloïse speeds up. The checkpoint is approaching. It's blocked now with more patrol cars. Alarm raised. In the rear mirror, there's a large truck. She glances to the road, back to the truck. It's much closer. It's him. "Seatbelts on," she says as she hits the accelerator. 

Her passengers scramble. 

"That man," Héloïse starts to explain, now being as bad a time as any, "is a robot, a machine sent from the future to kill you, Marianne."

"How - how do you know my name?"

"Because I've been sent back from the future to save you." 

"Fuck off," says Ethan. Héloïse likes him, which is a shame. 

"Why? Why me? The future? What? Why?" 

They blast through the checkpoint, breaking through the barrier. Soon there will be more company. 

Marianne puts her hands to her face. 

Héloïse ignores the previous questions, just keeps explaining, all the while her eyes darting about. "He's a Terminator. Incredibly dangerous. Nearly unstoppable. So we run and we keep running." 

Marianne nods. 

"Are you a robot?" Ethan asks. 

"No," she replies, offended. "I'm human. I just had some modifications. Super-senses. Super-strength. That kind of thing."

The truck is getting close now. 

"Faster," Ethan says, looking behind. 

"I know," Héloïse says. She can see him. And she knows he can see them perfectly clearly. Can identify Marianne as his target. 

She swerves onto a side street, hoping his larger truck won't be able to follow that quickly. It does, cutting the corner and slamming into the street furniture, sending pedestrians scattering. 

They need to get onto the highway, more space. Héloïse scans the street signs, thinks about the maps her new eidetic memory has on hand for her. Takes another sharp corner that has Ethan holding onto the dashboard. Héloïse puts her arm across Marianne, holding her in place. Marianne looks at her and Héloïse thinks she can see horror as well as disbelief. 

Héloïse flies down the wrong side of the carriageway to a string of profanities from Ethan. Behind them, the truck is gaining ground again. He's more reckless than herself, Héloïse realizes. He doesn't care. He has no-one to protect. Only someone to kill and no matter how many others besides. 

Héloïse blazes up the on-ramp to the highway and cuts into the traffic without looking. They will have to sort themselves out. The truck comes barrelling up behind them and smashes a car out of the way. 

Horns blare as she weaves through the traffic. In the rearview mirror cars are being bounced all over the road as the truck just mows through them. He's coming up behind them. 

"Marianne, I need you to drive."

Marianne looks at her wildly. "I can't drive," she says. 

Héloïse has a moment of fascination, but it cannot be more than a fraction of a second. 

"I can!" says Ethan.

"You drive a moped," Marianne retorts. 

"It's still driving!"

Héloïse could do without the sibling bickering. "Ethan! Drive." 

He hoists himself over Marianne and slides into the driver's seat Héloïse is vacating by opening the door. 

"Wait!" Marianne calls after her but Héloïse is out shimmying along the side of the truck to the flatbed. 

She doesn't know my name, Héloïse realizes. Very possibly, she never will. So she stops. "Héloïse." Looking past Ethan, who is concentrating very intently on the road. Marianne is concentrating very intently on Héloïse. 

On the flatbed, she finds her feet, perfectly balanced, and uses the pistol. Cracks the windscreen of the truck, but does little more than irritate the Terminator himself. She has to be smarter than this. 

He puts out his arm and it morphs into an enormous pronged gun. Leaning through his now-defunct windscreen he takes aim. A harpoon flies at them. At Marianne. Héloïse moves, she can see the trajectory of it, feel where she needs to be. 

Braces one arm with the other and uses the exoskeleton under her skin, pushes the projectile across, just enough to be away from Marianne. It rips through her skin and she turns to make sure it misses its mark. Marianne is staring back at her through the window. The harpoon plunges into the dashboard and the car lurches. 

Héloïse turns back quickly and fires shots at the truck's tyres. The driver's side blows and the truck, in turn, bounces off, the Terminator losing control. He is crawling out of the cab and crouching to leap across the gap. 

"Faster!" Héloïse shouts, not knowing if Ethan can hear. But their truck is shuddering, she can feel the vibrations through her feet. 

The Terminator jumps and Héloïse has a fraction of a second to pull the harpoon from the truck and plunge it into him, using his own momentum. It only melts in, returning to its form, and he smiles a sickening smile. A hand formed into a blade slices down on her and she twists away. It catches her across the back. Importantly, as long as he is fighting her, he is not killing Marianne. 

Ethan is losing control of the car and Héloïse thinks this might be helpful, in fact. They swerve back and forth over the road. Héloïse checks quickly on Marianne who is pale and quiet, but unharmed.

Héloïse barrels into him. He's heavy, but with the momentum of the truck swinging, they come off the back, bouncing across the tarmac. Just before she fell she had looked back, seen Marianne's wide eyes watching.

...

"Woah, woah." 

Marianne looks over. Ethan wrestles with the car, but it's a losing battle. In a moment they are embedded in the side barrier.

Everything goes fuzzy, throbbing. "Ethan?" Marianne reaches for him, not really sure how to do so, her body feeling strange and alien to her.

He groans. That feels like a good sign. She struggles against her seatbelt. 

With a crash, Marianne's door rips off. It's her. Héloïse. She's still alive, though bleeding. She looks over her shoulder as she wrenches Marianne's seatbelt, pulls her from the car. Marianne rushes round to Ethan's side. His door is hanging off, ripped metal twists and the line of it ends in his stomach. He turns his head, blood trickling from his mouth.

"We have to go," Héloïse says, tugging at Marianne's shoulder.

"No!" Marianne says, aghast. "Ethan, come on."

Apparently sensing her need, Héloïse pushes her aside, takes a look. "I'm sorry," she says. "There's nothing we can do."

Back along the highway, a car is revving.

"He's coming. We have to go. Now."

"Go," Ethan rasps.

"No."

"Marianne." Héloïse's voice is a warning.

The car is getting closer.

"No," Marianne says again, her hands on Ethan. It's a plea but to who? Ethan? Héloïse? The universe?

Finally, with the sound of the car unbearably loud, Marianne is pulled away, propelled toward the reservation, pushed down and shielded against the crunching of metal and the explosion that follows. Strong arms are around her, a body close over her and she closes her eyes.

Only for a moment as she is being lifted to her feet and pushed ahead again. Now, Héloïse picks up the car door, uses it as a shield as the machine, plainly a machine with half its face showing metal, advances.

"When it starts to kill me, you run," Héloïse says over her shoulder.

"What?" Marianne says, disbelieving.

The machine is approaching still. Héloïse stands strong, one arm in front of Marianne.

"You run and you keep running," she says.

Then a new screech of tyres that has everyone looking. A woman gets out of a car with the biggest gun Marianne has ever seen hoisted on her shoulder. Its blast vibrates everywhere and sends the machine spinning. Another forces it off the highway and the woman unhooks a grenade, tosses it down.

"Won't hold it forever," she says, her accent a smooth American. "Better run."

Héloïse pulls her toward the only vehicle not currently ablaze. Marianne looks back at the inferno of a truck she had only just been in. The flames are high, the whole thing is gone, Ethan with it.

There are tears as she is bundled into the vehicle, Héloïse starting it up and speeding away.

"Did you - did you just steal her truck?"

Héloïse shrugs.

Marianne looks at her. She's seen her fall out of a truck going at 80 mph. She deflected a weapon. Shielded Marianne from an explosion.

The skin on her forearm is torn. There's blood, but also, underneath, it is a shining mesh of metal. Marianne touches her arm. It's so hot. "You're burning,"

"I need water."

Marianne checks around the console, looks at the back seat.

"I can't see any." A wave of horror hits her. "Oh God, Ethan."

"I'm sorry," Héloïse says now. "I wish there was something I could have done."

Marianne is ready to argue the point, but the truck is drifting across the road. 

... 

"Hey!" Marianne clutches at Héloïse. Héloïse shakes herself. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm crashing," she says. "I need meds."

"I thought you were a super soldier?"

"I am. But my augmentations are designed for a very specific purpose." She feels herself slipping, concentrates on the question. "To fight a Terminator. Most of those fights last seconds. A few minutes. Kill or be killed. My metabolism is all or nothing..." She pulls herself back together as the car swerves.

She manages to steer them off the highway. Whatever carnage they leave behind, they have some time now. 

"You came back, to save me, thinking you would die?" 

"To save you first, would have been worth it." 

Marianne shakes her head. "No."

There's no time and it's not the right time and she's been warned not to try to explain. Only that, yes, she will die here to protect Marianne. She's slipping again.

"Pull over," Marianne demands.

For a second Héloïse loses consciousness and she knows it. Marianne's hands are on the steering wheel. Héloïse slams the brakes and they stop sharp on the side of the road.

A moment later and Marianne opens the driver's door. "Move over."

"You can't... drive," Héloïse manages to say.

"At least I'm conscious." Marianne frowns, concerned, arranging Héloïse onto the seat. "Where are these meds?"

"Pharmacy," Héloïse grunts. 

Marianne nods and the car launches forward, stalls a second later. "We'll get there," Marianne says. "Somehow." 

...

By the time Marianne pulls up outside the pharmacy and remembers the parking brake, Héloïse's eyes are rolling back in her head. She's muttering, shaking and sweating.

"Come." Marianne opens the door, holds Héloïse's arm over her shoulder and helps her into the pharmacy.

Héloïse props herself up against the counter. Gives a list of what she needs. Marianne doesn't recognise any of it. The pharmacist, quite rightly, asks for Héloïse's prescription. In reply, Héloïse pulls a gun. 

"Hey!" Marianne objects. 

But Héloïse lurches off behind the counter to the dispensary. 

"I'm so sorry," Marianne says to the pharmacist. "It's a complicated story. She won't hurt anyone. She saved my life. Several times already." 

There's the sound of crashing in the back and then Héloïse returns, swaying, with a bulging plastic bag. Marianne grabs a bottle of water, fishes in her pocket for whatever change she can find and dumps it on the counter. 

"Let's go," Héloïse mutters, her eyes glazed, sweat pouring off her. She makes it all of five feet toward the door before she stumbles and hits the floor. 

Marianne is there in an instant, trying to pull her up. Good _Lord_ she is heavy. "Please," Marianne appeals to the pharmacist. "Help me get her in the car and we'll be gone."

There's a long moment as he looks at her. "Please," she repeats. He comes over, takes an arm and they drag Héloïse outside. Undignified but effective and Héloïse is unconscious so she won't mind. 

Except at the truck its original owner is leaning against it. "What's her problem?" the woman asks. 

Marianne is fully at a loss now. Too many mysterious strangers today, too many guns, too much of everything. "I don't know."

The pharmacist senses he is no longer needed and heads back inside to safety. 

The woman nods. Apparently takes pity. Between the two of them they bundle Héloïse into the car. Marianne sits on the back seat with Héloïse lying across. She pours the water bottle out onto Héloïse, and her own lap. 

The woman drives. It's her car, after all. "Who are you?" She looks at Marianne in the rearview mirror as they drive out of the city. 

"No-one." That's probably not what was meant. "Marianne. My name's Marianne."

"Sarah Connor," she replies. 

"Thank you, Sarah. And... sorry for stealing your car."

"I get the feeling that wasn't so much your idea." Sarah looks down at Héloïse. "And who's that?"

"Héloïse." Marianne looks too. Héloïse is frowning, brow twitching, her lips moving a little. Marianne touches her forehead gently. "She said she was from the future." She doesn't know why she is telling this to Sarah, but it feels like she has taken a lot in her stride, so why not. "Someone was trying to kill me. A machine. She saved me." 

Sarah registers zero surprise which Marianne takes to mean that she knows, somehow, of this. 

They wind up at a highway motel. Sarah gets the room while Marianne waits with Héloïse in the car. They hold Héloïse's arms over their shoulders and struggle until they can flop her unceremoniously onto the bed. 

"I'm going to get some ice," Sarah says.

Marianne rolls Héloïse over onto her back. Smoothes damp hair from her face. Héloïse's breath is ragged and she shakes convulsively. Still monstrously hot to the touch. 

The door bangs open, making Marianne jump and she tears her eyes from Héloïse's face. Sarah shakes a bucket over Héloïse, covering her in ice cubes.

"That ought to help." Then Sarah shakes out the bag of meds and sits down at the table, working through them. 

Marianne twists on the bed. "Have you done this before?"

Sarah holds up a syringe. "Nope. Not a clue." 

...

This is a dream, Héloïse tells herself. It's not, it's a memory, but she's dreaming. She knows this, but can't wake up. A nightmare. 

In the transport heading back to base. Bumping over the ruins of roads and buildings. Héloïse is dusty and bloody but she doesn't care. Across from her, on a stretcher, lies the Commander. Bandaged up and with an oxygen mask on. They just have to get back. 

It had been a shitshow, the meeting. The Commander trying to rally people to the Resistance. The usual speech, but it got Héloïse every time. Believing in each other, working together. Daring to hope, believing the future was theirs to change. Then the gunshots and she hadn't been fast enough. Watched the Commander crumple to the floor. Then the drones and now the machines pursuing them back. 

Her squad leader yells into the comms, barks instructions. "Cover the Commander," he yells at Héloïse. "Get inside." He knows Héloïse will.

Héloïse takes the front of the stretcher. Tries not to look down at her passenger, looks ahead at the blast doors opening. More of the squad comes out, guns raised to the air. 

The first missile falls. Kicks up debris and dust and Héloïse dodges. The machines fall now, in balls that open up with feet and pincers. Stabbing and impaling. The shouts of her comrades as they die. She has her eyes on the door. 

There's a blast behind her, she falls, grunts, picks herself back up and continues, but the stretcher is heavier now. She glances behind and he's gone, her fellow bearer. She's dragging the Commander alone. Fine. 

She blasts at a machine, one-handed, never letting go of the stretcher. 

Until there's another, slicing toward her. She dodges, shoots again. Too many legs. The most incredible pain shatters through her. Almost hollow it's so profound. The metal through her chest. She looks down. It withdraws and she coughs blood. 

Looks up and unloads into the machine, close enough now that she can aim right into it. It drops. There are so many more. 

Lunging and coughing Héloïse takes up the handle again, stumbling through the smoke and the dust. Another machine. She drops, rolls back over the stretcher, puts her body over the Commander. Shoots, feels that pain through her shoulder, crushing her. Lets out a wordless roar and shoots again, drawing her legs up to push the metal wreckage away. 

Spluttering, moves forward again. Collapses through the door dragging the stretcher. 

People are around her now. Medics and activity. 

One of the medics is holding her down. Stopping her from getting up. "The Commander," Héloïse spits through the blood. 

"The Commander is safe. Thanks to you." They pull at her jacket. Héloïse lets her head drop. The Commander is safe. 

"Shit," the medic says. "Multiple stab wounds to the chest. Get a chest tube in here. Héloïse, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker." 

Héloïse already hurts like a motherfucker. She suspects there might be no coming back from this. Suspects she might be dying. In the confusion, through the pain, she lifts her head again. "I volunteer," she says, aware of the blood in her mouth, in her lungs. "I volunteer. Make me an augment." 

...

Marianne feels Héloïse's forehead again. Her temperature is much better. She's stopped sweating and writhing around. 

"Héloïse," Marianne says quietly. 

And Héloïse lurches up, her breath heaving, more as if she had been drowning than sleeping. She's on her feet, backing up against the wall. 

"It's OK," Marianne is on her feet too. Reaching out. "You're OK"

Héloïse's wild eyes begin to calm immediately, taking in the room. Landing on Marianne. "Are you hurt?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Yeah, about that," Sarah breaks in. "I've got a few questions."

Marianne sees Héloïse harden. "So do I." 

"What are you? You're not a Terminator."

"No. I'm human. From the future. I've been enhanced, made into a super-soldier." 

Marianne can't tell whether Héloïse is pleased or ashamed. Or what proportion of each. 

Sarah squints. "But you know about Terminators? About Skynet?"

"Skynet? No. A Terminator has been sent by Legion, the AI that took over the world."

"For Marianne here?"

Héloïse doesn't say anything, though Marianne has already admitted as much to Sarah. "You're not from the future," Héloïse finally says. "How do you know about Terminators? How do you know how to fight them?"

"I've had more than a few run-ins. Years ago one was sent here to kill me."

"Why?" Marianne asks, breaking into the conversation that is nominally about her, but has so far not included her. 

"You pregnant?" Sarah shoots back a baffling non-sequitur. 

"No?"

"You sure?"

"Yes. It's -" It's been too long. Either way, it's been too long. She doesn't much feel like sharing her lack of pregnancy-opportunities with the room. "I'm not pregnant." 

"Maybe not yet. That's why. My son. John Connor." As she says the name she looks at Héloïse with significance. "The leader of the resistance."

"Not my resistance," Héloïse says. 

Sarah is quiet. "Maybe we did change the future. And now it's you." She looks at Marianne. "Now you get to be the mother to the leader of the resistance. It's not you the Terminator wants. It's your womb." 

Marianne's hand goes instinctively over her belly. 

"That's why I'm here. A Terminator tried to kill me. Killed my son. Now I kill them."

Marianne feels the impact of Sarah's words, remembers Ethan.

"How?" Héloïse demands. 

"Very big guns."

"How did you know where to be?"

"I have equipment can pick up disruptions. Space-time continuum, that sort of thing. Pack my bags and off I go. I gotta tell you, though, getting across the Atlantic ocean? Big problem for me."

"Hope you have a better journey on the way back," Héloïse says pointedly. 

"Oh, yeah, you're welcome for saving your life and all."

"I could have handled it."

"Sure. A real crack team. Your friend here already apologised for stealing my truck."

"She shouldn't have."

"She's right, you know," Sarah says to Marianne. "I don't like her, but she's right."

Marianne did not think she was right, not about this. "Oh God, we stole a car. Robbed a pharmacy at gunpoint." She'd never so much as had a parking ticket, but then, no one had ever tried to shoot her either, not until Héloïse turned up. 

Did _she_ like Héloïse? In fairness Héloïse had spent a solid chunk of their time together unconscious. Because she'd saved Marianne's life, repeatedly. Put herself between Marianne and danger. It would be ungrateful not to be fond of her already, trust her already. 

Héloïse crouches in front of her now. Looking the picture of health again, looking up at Marianne, looking dutiful and respectful. "Marianne, I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry about Ethan, about everything, but we are going to steal a lot more cars and do a lot more pretty terrible things. Because the most important thing, _the most important thing_ , is to keep you safe."

...

Héloïse is genuinely sorry. She hates that she is here, upending Marianne's life, but she hates the alternative even more. Really, there can be no alternative. The future of humanity depends on Marianne, and Héloïse must get Marianne to the future. 

Marianne is so different from how Héloïse had expected. She had tried not to expect much, knew that chances were they would barely interact. Héloïse had a one-way ticket and that was fine with her. The journey had been extended though. Now she is packing a car furnished with fake plates by Sarah, getting ready to move. A safe house Sarah had in the German countryside.

Héloïse is not going to travel all that way with an American fugitive. It's tricky enough she doesn't have any documents and that Marianne has nothing on her and can't go home, they would be used to track her anyway.

"We should just be able to drive right through," Marianne says.

" _Should_ is not a plan," Héloïse replies. She can blast her way over the border if necessary, but Marianne seems to object to this. 

The only thing they have going for them now is that they are incognito, they've given him the slip. They have to stay under the radar to have any chance. First, a stop at Marianne's uncle's, closer to the border, somewhere safe. 

Héloïse drives and Marianne looks at her. "What?"

"What happened, where you are from?" Marianne asks, inevitably. 

"That's a big subject." 

"Sorry. You don't have to. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, I understand. Of course you want to know. It's just... it could be different by the time you get there." She thinks for a moment. "Do you believe in fate?"

"I don't know," Marianne says quietly. It's so strange for Héloïse to hear that. 

"I don't, I was taught not to. That we can change the future. Just because it didn't happen already doesn't mean we can't make it happen. And just because it happened doesn't mean we can't stop it. Every single second we can make decisions that change the future."

"I like that." 

Héloïse takes a deep breath. Glad she can just look at the road. "Already an AI called Legion is being developed. Military, originally. It grows, it infiltrates every network, it becomes self-replicating, self-aware. It waits. A few years later, a perfectly normal day and boom, everything stops. They evacuated the cities but it didn't matter. No electricity, no networks. Modern life wiped out in an instant. The world went to war, millions died. Then, without food, without everything we relied on, it was the apocalypse, billions died. It was just my dad and me until he was killed over a can of peaches."

"Héloïse..." Marianne is close on the seat.

"Don't..." She's just lost everything too, Héloïse thinks, her whole world. "I wasn't alone for long. Someone found me, saved me, saved everyone, brought us together." 

Marianne nods. "My son? Like Sarah said. I understand."

No, you don't understand at all. But Héloïse isn't supposed to say anything. She's a good soldier, so she doesn't. Just keeps driving. 

Even when Marianne sleeps, curled up and drifting toward Héloïse, she keeps driving. 

...

Marianne wakes to Héloïse's hand on her knee. "We're here."

She sits up quickly and wipes her mouth. Too relaxed, far too relaxed, and propped up against Héloïse as well. Now she has to tell her uncle about Ethan, about everything that has happened. 

Héloïse looks at her like she might understand. Sympathy, however pragmatic she is. 

"Stay behind me, just in case."

So Marianne has to explain to her uncle why she is here unannounced with a strange lady who wants to search his house and check he's not a robot. 

Satisfied, Héloïse returns. "I'm going to ditch the car. Give you a bit of time."

"Thank you." She catches at Héloïse's hand. "Thank you," she says again, meaning more. She thinks, again, that Héloïse might understand. She just nods, gets in the car, drives off. 

Alone now with her uncle, so like Ethan, so like her mother, Marianne finally starts to cry. 

It's two hours before Héloïse gets back and Marianne has started to get worried. She has told her uncle everything, they have cried together, drank tea, cried some more. 

She tried to explain Héloïse and found herself lacking. Now, seeing her being let into the house, she feels the relief she is OK, the relief she is back. The comfort of her being nearby, protective, quiet. More than that though. 

Marianne feels Héloïse's eyes all over her. Checking her, assessing her, thinking what? What runs through her mind? Always some plan, thinking of something, and probably that's all. Except sometimes it feels like she is looking for something, for someone.

"You were ages."

Héloïse looks surprised. "I was just outside. I would never - Marianne, I will never leave you, not while he is out there." She is so forthright. "Are you alright?" she asks Marianne gently.

"Yes. What are you planning?"

"Next steps," Héloïse says, grim. "We can't stay here long. Get cleaned up, get some sleep, get out of here."

Marianne's uncle nods. "I'll get some cash together, food, whatever else you need. You know where the guest bedroom is."

"Thank you."

Héloïse checks the bedroom first, as though she thinks a Terminator might have just been sat in there, waiting, all this time. 

"I'm going to take a shower. I'll be quick."

And she is, lightning-fast and looking all the better for it. Marianne passes by her into the bathroom. 

"I'll be outside," Héloïse says, and stands by the door. 

Marianne, stripping down, is intensely aware of the fact Héloïse is right there. If she puts her hand against the tiles she is almost touching Héloïse. The last few days merge into one, she can't tell how long it has been. Since this pain in her chest, the ache in her limbs. Everything about her life blown away, Héloïse blown in. 

She lets the shower beat down on her. She's clean, but she doesn't want to leave. Eventually, though, she switches it off and wraps herself up in a towel, opens the door. Héloïse is there, impassive, staring straight ahead even as Marianne walks past and to the bedroom, pauses in the doorway. "Don't you need to sleep?"

"No. I need to be alert." She doesn't budge. 

"Will you stay with me?"

There's a moment of hesitation. "If you want." 

"I do." Marianne doesn't want to be alone. More than that, she _wants_ to be with Héloïse. 

In the bedroom is a selection of clean clothes. Héloïse turns her back as Marianne gets changed. Then Marianne slips into the bed. Héloïse lingers by the door. 

"You look like a bodyguard," Marianne smiles.

"I am." And Héloïse smiles back and it is beautiful. 

"Come here." She pats the bed next to her. 

Héloïse sits, kicks off her shoes, swings her legs onto the bed. Sitting, but close. 

It's daytime now and Marianne doesn't know the time, but sleep comes easily. 

...

Héloïse sits on the bed while Marianne sleeps soundly. Snores a little, rolls over. Rolls back and shuffles closer. Marianne is warm, alive. Hours pass and Marianne's arm makes its way across Héloïse's waist and still, Héloïse does not move. Moves a little when ever-so-gently Héloïse puts her own hand on Marianne's shoulder. 

Every synapse in Héloïse's augmented super-soldier brain is firing all at once. She is going to have to wake Marianne soon, get them moving again. As she looks down at Marianne sleeping it seems a lot to ask. Of herself, even, to move from here. 

But Marianne moves, stretches, yawns. In doing so is even more in Héloïse's lap than she was before. Héloïse's hand remains on her shoulder. 

"What time is it?" Marianne asks, soft and sleepy. 

"Around five-thirty."

Marianne makes a gentle humming noise. Her hand slides up over her shoulder, finds Héloïse's there, her eyes close again. She is smiling. 

"We have to go," Héloïse says, desperate. Marianne's arm across her, Marianne's fingers threading into her own. Marianne is hardly awake, she doesn't know. Everything is going to hit her and she will feel bad. 

Here it is. She feels Marianne shiver. Her head turns slightly, but into Héloïse, not away. She sits up, still close. 

"You stayed." Marianne's eyes are all over Héloïse's face and Héloïse cannot bear it. 

"I did." She wishes she could say something better, something that will make Marianne feel better. She wishes Marianne knew that she would always stay. Would always do anything Marianne asked of her. 

Marianne looks at her still. 

"How are you feeling?" Héloïse herself feels hoarse. 

"I'm OK."

Héloïse nods, hopes that Marianne knows she understands. OK considering. "You should get up. Have something to eat. We need to go." 

Marianne's uncle will drop them off in Strasbourg. They will walk across the border like tourists. No car to track, less complications. 

Héloïse tries to disguise Marianne somehow, there will be cameras. Pops a baseball cap on her. "It looks good on you."

"It does not," Marianne laughs and then seems to feel bad about it, which makes Héloïse feel worse. 

They load backpacks with food and spare clothes and head for Strasbourg. 

...

They wander across the border without any difficulty whatsoever and Marianne can't help but think of the border she was at... when? A day ago? Two?

Now, Marianne trudges through the woods. 

Héloïse dumped the car a little distance from the safe house so they walk the final miles. It's not hard going, but Héloïse stops often and turns to help Marianne over a log, past nettles, pointing out a hole. Unnecessary, but welcome. Always such concern even as Marianne has barely a scratch on her. The pain is invisible, but Héloïse understands that too. Is sensitive to it even though she struggles to put it into words.

Héloïse turns now, reaches out to guide Marianne over some churned-up ground. Nothing Marianne could not handle easily. She takes Héloïse's hand and lets herself be supported. But once past she does not let go, does not let Héloïse let go. So they continue hand in hand until they reach the hut.

It looks simple enough but Marianne can see how heavy and reinforced the door is as Sarah opens it. There is no knock or introduction so there must be cameras too. Traps also, no doubt.

"Well, well," Sarah says, _almost_ smiling as if she is _almost_ pleased to see them. "Look who's here."

Héloïse drinks two pints of water, one after the other, one long breath each. Marianne doesn't want to think what Héloïse's body with all its foreign objects straining at her still-very-human form, is doing to her. She'd said before, it wasn't designed for this.

Marianne fills Sarah in on their travels.

Sarah nods gravely. "We should be pretty safe here. There's no cell reception, plenty of cover. For the night at least."

"And then?" Marianne asks. Sees the indecision, the concern, on Héloïse's face just for a moment.

Sarah frowns. "That's what we have to figure out. You two get yourselves settled. Freshen up, whatever the hell people do. I'll make some food, be out back."

Héloïse stands awkwardly, watching Sarah go. Marianne moves closer to her. 

"Food sounds good." Marianne's trying to be reassuring, reassure Héloïse that this was the right decision, that the future can wait just for a few hours. "And we could do with a shower." 

It's not meant the way Marianne realizes it sounds when Héloïse looks at her. A look that sinks straight into Marianne's gut and burns there. 

But Héloïse shakes herself out of it, visibly shakes it off, which makes Marianne smile. But also burn again with wanting to tell Héloïse it's OK. That she feels it too. 

The gaze is back on her quickly. Héloïse scanning her eyes, her lips, her face. 

"Shower," is all Marianne can say, all she can think of. 

"I'll be outside," Héloïse says, a little pink around the ears, moving to the door. 

"Stay with me," Marianne breathes. 

... 

Héloïse stays. 

Stays as Marianne gets undressed. Revealing a long, pale, lithe body. She leans over to switch on the shower. 

Stays as Marianne turns back to her, puts her hands at the hem of Héloïse's shirt, pauses. She is waiting for an answer, for permission. 

In reply, Héloïse starts unbuckling her belt and is interrupted as Marianne dispatches the shirt. The pants and underwear drop too. 

Taking Héloïse's hands, Marianne steps into the bath, bringing Héloïse with her. Lets the water run over them for a moment before reaching out and smoothing Héloïse's hair away. Running her hands over Héloïse's face. 

Héloïse is turned around, examined. Hands over the augmentation scars, nothing of the more recent fights to see any more. 

Marianne lathers soap in her hands. Hands that travel over Héloïse's back, across the top of her shoulders, down her arms. Lathering again, cleaning again. Marianne stands so close behind her there's only a thin film of running water between Héloïse's back and Marianne. The water burns as Marianne's soapy hands come around and onto Héloïse's stomach, rubbing across hard, tensing muscles.

An aching pause for more soap and then shaking hands are on her breasts, sweeping across. Héloïse stiffens, mortified by how her heightened senses react immediately to Marianne's touch. But her hands move onto Héloïse's chest and stroke across her collarbone, a thumb grazing up Héloïse's neck. Marianne dips her head and Héloïse feels lips against her shoulder. She turns now, lets the water wash the soap from her. 

Facing one another again Marianne cups Héloïse's face gently, kisses her. Their lips, their whole bodies, coming together slick and hot under the water. Marianne moans into Héloïse's mouth. Guttural, animal, wanting to feel alive. Héloïse wants Marianne to feel that. Will give that to Marianne. Will reduce her to a state where she barely knows her own name, forgets all her pain, feels only pleasure. 

Héloïse gets down on her knees in the tub. Makes the mistake of looking up at the most beautiful sight she has ever seen. Marianne's head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted, rivulets running over her, her hands at Héloïse's head.

She almost cannot tear herself away. But she does, turns her attention to a different part of Marianne, no less breathtaking. 

Marianne gasps and rises, again and again. Héloïse stays, Héloïse can, will, stay here forever. 

When Marianne's legs eventually give way, Héloïse stands, supports Marianne's weight easily, holding her against the tiles. Héloïse moves close, her hand between Marianne's legs. Marianne is crumpled over her shoulder, holding fast around Héloïse's neck, shaking and straining and squeezing so tightly. 

After the surge, Héloïse pauses, nuzzles into Marianne's cheek. "More?" Marianne nods against her. Héloïse begins again. Moves slow, slow and gentle and each time she asks it is quicker and easier, until Marianne is almost entirely limp against her and barely has the energy to shake her head. The water is cold on them now and Héloïse holds her, never more grateful for the fortified muscles. She holds Marianne against her, strokes hair from her face and trails her fingertips over Marianne's features, in awe. 

Marianne's skin grows cold and Héloïse turns off the shower, steps from the tub, holding Marianne in one arm, reaches for a towel and wraps her up. Marianne is still heavy, eyes barely open, pliable and soft, but when Héloïse kisses her it is returned fiercely. 

"Used all my hot water, ladies!" Sarah shouts through at them when they shuffle from the bathroom in clean clothes.

Héloïse cannot look at Marianne as they sit outside on Sarah's porch and eat. Sarah says nothing, but Héloïse feels it all the same. 

Sarah declares lights out early. Sheets are tossed on the sofa, a blanket and more sheets dumped on the floor. 

"I don't mind the floor," Marianne says. 

"Sofa," Héloïse insists. "You actually need to sleep."

No sooner than Sarah has called good night and shut her door, Marianne slips off the sofa and lies next to Héloïse. She puts her arm up, lets Marianne move closer, put her head on Héloïse's shoulder.

Marianne's fingertips swirl over Héloïse's chest, through her shirt. Her body thrills to the touch, but it soon becomes slow, with long pauses.

"Go to sleep," Héloïse murmurs into Marianne's hair, kissing her there. 

Marianne squeezes her, relaxes, is soon twitching and falling into sleep.

Héloïse holds her and remembers. 

_Her_ Marianne, not that she had ever been able to call the Commander _her_ Marianne, had always kept a distance. Much as she had looked out for Héloïse, been a constant presence, there was an undeniable distance. Especially as Héloïse got older. How Marianne had looked at her sometimes, with regret. 

Had her Marianne had this? Had they loved one another in her past? How it must have felt, then, to find a teenage Héloïse in the rubble, to be older, for them to be so far apart in so many ways, but to be remembering now, when they were the same age, when they were together. Thrown together, when it was so fierce, fighting to stay alive, fighting to feel alive. Watching as Héloïse became more and more the woman Marianne had known in her past. 

Marianne knowing Héloïse's fate. The terror in Marianne's eyes when she found Héloïse lying in the medbay after her augmentation. How Héloïse had nearly died protecting her, nearly died from the procedure, now this. Now to be sent back into the past. To die protecting her. Marianne had known and all Héloïse's life she had been waiting, knowing. 

The Marianne sleeping next to her, _this_ is Héloïse's Marianne. And Héloïse pulls her closer, kisses her hair. "I love you," she whispers into the dark. 

Marianne is so different. Young, unsure, still in progress. Now Héloïse feels like the older one. Protective, tender, holding knowledge of who Marianne will become, waiting for her to become it. 

Thinking that perhaps they can become something else, together. The Commander didn't believe in fate. Believed in making the future for themselves. Perhaps this Marianne, this Héloïse, can make a new future. For themselves, for the world. 

Beside her, Marianne stirs. Puts out a hand to touch Héloïse's cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

Marianne kisses her. Rolls onto her, leans over her, touches her.

Marianne. _Her_ Marianne. Héloïse says Marianne's name over and over. Mumbles it, gasps it, moans it. Her Marianne. 

... 

Marianne wakes up in Héloïse's arms and the fact she cannot stay, that they cannot stay like this, twists in her gut. She closes her eyes again and holds onto Héloïse, to the moment. Héloïse shifts and Marianne moves up and kisses her. It's too much for a good morning kiss and nowhere enough for not knowing if there will be a good night one.

There is so much to do though, so much to decide on and Sarah will be here soon.

Over eggs, they discuss.

"So what now, lovebirds?"

Marianne shouldn't be amused, but she is. She looks over and Héloïse has a face like thunder. But the question is a valid one. What now? Marianne can see how Héloïse's mind is racing.

"I have to keep Marianne safe."

"OK, change the record, we know. How?"

Héloïse shrugs, eats. "Hide her at the bottom of a mineshaft. Anything."

"Héloïse..." Marianne puts her hand on Héloïse's arm. "We can't run forever."

"We could."

"No. Always looking over our shoulders? You always on high alert? Feeling like any day..." Could be the day the Terminator caught up with them.

Sarah knew. "Sounds to me like you need to take a stand."

Marianne, still looking at Héloïse, nods.

"No," Héloïse says quietly. "You can't put yourself at risk. The future of humanity depends on you living." 

"And how could I live with myself, if something happened to you because of me? I don't want to live like that. I don't want to live in fear. We need to finish this. Ethan, all these people... we can't let it go on." It's been too much and Marianne cannot keep going at this pace.

"The way I see it," Sarah begins and Héloïse rolls her eyes, "is we get loaded up, we pick the time and the place, we dangle Marianne in front of him and we have the showdown."

"We are not _dangling_ Marianne."

"Héloïse, it makes sense," Marianne says. 

"You're not bait."

"But I am what he wants."

"I've barely been able to put a dent in him."

Marianne realizes, watching her, what a shame this is to Héloïse. "You kept me alive," she emphasizes.

"I've got some gear that might be able to help." As Marianne remembers it, Sarah could arm a small militia. Sarah continues. "But we are going to need to step it up a notch."

Héloïse nods. "To finish it? An electromagnetic pulse weapon. Fry his circuits once and for all."

"Military-grade. I know a guy."

"Of course you do." 

It felt like the two of them were talking in another language. Sarah and Héloïse were plotting this out, taking the plates and washing up.

After, Sarah goes out, talking about weaponry. Marianne sits at the table still. Héloïse comes over, kneels down in front of Marianne, puts her hands on Marianne's knees. Gentle, deferential, to see her like this stirs Marianne. "If you want this we will do it, but if you change your mind you only have to say. I'll take you away, I'll keep you safe. I'll -" But she stops, uncomfortable, looks away, then pulls herself together. "Ignore what happened last night, I'm not holding you to anything."

"I don't want to ignore it, I can't."

"You're in pain, you're grieving."

"And I know what I want."

Héloïse is unconvinced and not fully taking it in. "I can protect you without that being an issue, from a distance. If we do it properly you won't even have to know I'm there."

"I want you." Marianne pulls Héloïse toward her, Héloïse rises on her knees, at the same level now. Héloïse, them, this, is the only thing that had made sense to Marianne for days. 

"I don't want this to be affecting your judgement, change things." 

"Of course it does." Marianne's hands go to Héloïse's face. "I can't keep running. I can't keep watching you put yourself in danger."

"That's what I'm here for. What I was built to do." 

The future that Héloïse keeps telling her about hangs by a thread. Héloïse makes Marianne sound important, but Sarah says it's her future offspring and maybe someone else can give birth to the savior of humanity if Marianne isn't around. Or if Marianne is busy kissing Héloïse, as she does now. 

...

The plan is in motion. Héloïse likes having a plan and likes being in motion, but she does not like this particular plan, not at all. Marianne does, however, and what Marianne wants overrides any instinct Héloïse might have. She will move heaven and earth for Marianne, no matter how stupid the plan.

They are meeting a contact Sarah has in one of the American military bases. How Sarah contacted him from the safe house Héloïse does not know, carrier pigeon, perhaps. How Sarah has enough influence over him to steal these EMPs Héloïse does not _want_ to know.

She drives an old camper van along the autobahn, the rest of the traffic streaking past. It is augmented, like her, and they are not showing their hand too early. Who knows who, or what, might be watching. 

A few miles from the base and Héloïse pulls into an abandoned warehouse. It's getting dark. She hops out, skirts the perimeter, finds a good vantage point. One of Sarah's many, many guns tucked under her arm. After a while, someone approaches and she doesn't need her super-boosted brain's calculations of gait and height or any of that to know it's Marianne.

Marianne says nothing. Just passes her a bottle of water, which Héloïse downs in one. Marianne's hand lingers, though, on Héloïse's back. 

Here comes the Jeep. Héloïse positions herself, on instinct, in front of Marianne. Marianne's hands are on her waist, she peers over Héloïse's shoulder. She has this Major Whoever in her sight the whole time he is talking to Sarah. Until she hears something, tips her head. 

Marianne does the same. "What is it?"

"Helicopter. Come." Still keeping Marianne tucked behind her she approaches Sarah and her military friend. He is surprised, which is understandable. "Major," she interrupts. "What kind of helicopters do you fly out of your base?"

"Chinooks," he says. "Why?"

"Because that's not a Chinook. It's him."

Héloïse pushes Marianne into the van, gets into the driver's seat. "Let's go!" she shouts to the others who are taking their sweet time, she feels. Especially considering how happy she would be just to drive off and leave them, except that Marianne would not like it. 

The helicopter is getting closer and as the Major finally gets into the van bullets rain down on them. Héloïse starts driving, she doesn't care whether he is in or out, she is off. Speeds through the warehouse, a sharp turn to try to confuse him up there in the chopper, crashing through a different door. 

There's some sort of chaos going on in the back of the camper then Marianne's head pops up to say the Major has been shot. He should have moved faster, Héloïse thinks. But Marianne also says he's radioing for backup from his base and to keep heading in that direction. 

Military backup, on _their_ side, sounds pretty good to Héloïse right about now. It won't stop the Terminator but it will slow him down again and right now he is at an advantage. She puts the pedal to the metal and what looks like a hunk of junk camper van almost takes off into orbit. Under different circumstances, Héloïse might even be having fun. 

Gates are opened and barriers are raised as they race through. Soldiers gathering and pointing their guns not at Héloïse, but at the helicopter. 

"Will they hold him?"

"No," is all Héloïse says. They won't, they won't be much more than a distraction. He could just fly over them, but probably he will kill them. She hopes Marianne will not know this. 

So she keeps driving. There are aeroplanes here, planes also sound good. 

Behind them, an explosion. Héloïse looks. The chopper. That won't stop him either, but he's lost his transport and that is a good thing. 

"We're boarding a plane," she announces to the van.

Looks for one with the loading bay open and drives straight in. Some soldiers are trying to take off a Humvee and haven't had the memo so the guns come out, but the Major stands them down as he is rushed off for treatment. 

Héloïse heads to the cockpit. 

...

Marianne can't be surprised that Héloïse can fly a plane. She can do everything else. They are rumbling along the tarmac now. Sarah is taking their armaments from the camper. Spots something on the runway. 

"Son of a bitch." She puts her enormous gun over her shoulder, Marianne wants to call it a bazooka because she knows nothing about guns. It looks like it could bring down a plane. Hopefully not this one. She shoots it, reels under the kickback, but keeps her feet and a small crater appears behind them. No Terminator. Marianne remembers what Héloïse always says about it only slowing him down. 

The plane begins to lift, the door begins to close. Héloïse comes back to the bay, walks on the closing door to peer down, which makes Marianne feel a little bit sick, but she trusts in Héloïse's super soldier abilities. 

"Gun!" Her arm is held backwards and Sarah tosses one, Héloïse catches it, swings and starts shooting down. A clanging noise and Marianne sees arms on the lip of the door. Héloïse moves closer, shooting, but he's clambering up with his arms morphing, striking at her. 

Sarah smashes the bay door button and it starts opening again. Good idea, Marianne thinks. They don't want him in here with them. But then, nor does she want Héloïse falling out. Which she immediately does, wrapped in the Terminator's whip-like arms.

"Héloïse!" Marianne yells, starting to run across, but caught by Sarah, who holds her for a second. Then Marianne sees hands, Héloïse's hands, clutching at the edge of the door, hears Héloïse's roar. 

The van, Marianne thinks. She moves to it, takes off the brake. Sarah follows, understanding. If he is still there he's holding onto Héloïse, dragging her down so that she falls and dies and he is free to come after Marianne. Or climbing back up before dispatching Héloïse. Neither of these scenarios is acceptable to Marianne. So she pushes it, lets the slope of the loading doors roll it away. 

"Truck!" Sarah yells to Héloïse as the van flies off the edge.

Marianne holds her breath, is being drawn down the ramp. Héloïse's hands, more and more of Héloïse as she pulls herself up, dusts herself off, looks down out the door. Turns back and grins at her and Sarah. "Nice."

She slams the button for the bay door again and all three of them wait until it is closed. Marianne takes a tight hold of Héloïse for an all-too-brief moment. She's held just as fiercely in return, while it lasts. Until Héloïse has to go back to the cockpit, Marianne and Sarah following. 

"Where are we headed?" Héloïse asks. 

Two smaller planes fly either side of them. An escort. Going up in the world, Marianne thinks. 

Sarah cracks open the case the Major had given her. Examines the EMPs. "Well, shit."

Marianne and Héloïse turn. The case is riddled with bullet holes. The EMPs are shot through. 

"OK," Héloïse says. "New plan."

"No," Marianne says. 

"That was the plan. That was our chance." Héloïse indicates the wrecked EMPs. 

"We've come too far. We've lost too much. I won't hide while he tears the place apart looking for me." 

And Héloïse looks at her with despair. 

"It can still work," Marianne urges. "We can still do this." 

It's not as though a large part of her doesn't want to be swept away by Héloïse. Perhaps not the bottom of a mineshaft, but a little hut in the woods like Sarah's, off the grid. It's a pleasant fantasy, but that's all it is, a fantasy. She wants that for Héloïse too, wants to keep Héloïse safe, but they can't. 

Marianne clings to some resolve. "If we have a chance, to change the future, we should do it, we should take it. Whatever the future holds, all we have is this moment, right now. And we can do whatever we want with it."

"I've heard that speech a hundred times before." Héloïse looks right at her, with import, willing her to understand. "And every time it makes me believe all over again." 

"My child?"

"No." Héloïse is emphatic now. " _You_. You are the leader of the resistance. You unite what is left of humanity. You save us."

"She's the savior?" Sarah interrupts, but Marianne can only look at Héloïse.

"Yes." Héloïse looks pained. "The Commander of the Resistance. The Savior of Humanity. _My_ savior. You saved me in the ruins. You found me when I was alone. You looked after me, brought me with you, gave my life meaning again, gave so many people meaning again. I grew up watching you turn all the frightened, hurting people you found into something with meaning. A Resistance, a better version of ourselves. Fighting Legion, but never forgetting how we ought to be better than the people who came before."

"The whole time you've been here..."

"I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry. You told me not to tell you." 

Marianne has had this vague sense that Héloïse looks at her and sees someone else. But it's her. A future her. An older her. Her? Not yet and maybe not ever. Because they can change their fate. 

...

The comms crackle and distract them all, thankfully, Héloïse thinks. Something about refuelling. One of the flanking pilots comes in, "Bit early for a refuel."

Héloïse knows. "It's him," she says. "Marianne, get into the Humvee." 

Marianne is surprised, but starts moving immediately, heading back into the loading bay. Sarah follows. Héloïse checks the instruments and picks up the radio to warn the other pilots when the plane shudders with a great groaning noise. He's here. She looks out the window to see another plane grinding along the side of hers. Breaking up, but he jumps from the cockpit and crawls along the side of this plane, making his way to the gash he created. In the loading bay. Where Marianne is. 

Héloïse is already moving when she hears Marianne calling for her. Moves faster. In the loading bay as the plane starts its spinning fall. Losing air pressure, wind howling around her and out through the hole. No Terminator yet. 

Marianne clings to the webbing on the side and Héloïse calculates for a fraction of a second before launching herself. Air pressure, trajectory, force, she lands and braces herself over Marianne. This plane is going down, the Terminator is here and she needs to get Marianne out. 

"Hold onto me."

Marianne puts her arms around Héloïse's neck. Héloïse holds her even closer. Turns, braces herself against the wall and pushes off. Héloïse spins them so that when they hit the Humvee her back takes the brunt of it. Bundles Marianne inside. "Get buckled in."

"Where are you going?" 

Héloïse has to get the hatch doors open, has to release the Humvee, is vaguely aware Sarah is missing, that the Terminator is _very_ close. 

"Just get buckled in."

She turns and crawls across the roof, holding on against the still-powerful force trying to drag her through the gap. Looks around for Sarah. Who is trying to collect her guns, her precious guns. 

"Sarah!" she yells. "Get over here!"

Sarah throws a bag over her shoulder, holds on to several more guns. 

Through the whistling gap in the plane, the Terminator appears. Sarah shoots at him. The gap widens, but he is still there. 

Héloïse takes a breath and lets herself fall. She whizzes past Sarah, shouting about the Humvee, about Marianne, as she goes. Lands right at the back of the plane, watching Sarah climbing back up. 

The Terminator locks eyes with Héloïse and jumps down. He is feet away from her. She smashes the button to open the door but it only moves a little before it jams. He smiles. Slashes at her and she ducks, rolls away. Despite the dodge, a searing pain in her ribs. Boxes and other detritus falls on them as the plane dips suddenly. She glances up toward the Humvee and sees Sarah aiming the enormous gun their way. 

Yes, excellent, she thinks, as it whizzes past her. She leaps as far as she can as it explodes behind her, still feeling the force of it jarring across her back. Aware of her heart pounding. 

The doors blow off. The Terminator blows out. Héloïse starts climbing back up the plane. The wind is terrific now and the aeroplane has started to tip forward. 

Sarah is in the Humvee, buckled in next to Marianne as Héloïse starts to pull the strapping off. Cannot look up, cannot look into Marianne's terrified eyes. She moves around, ripping, freeing the vehicle. She has to be back at the front to finish. She does not look. She puts her back to the front of the truck and pushes. The decompression and the downward trajectory of the aeroplane fight against each other. Héloïse pushes, closes her eyes and roars with the effort as the Humvee starts to move, picks up speed, falls from the plane.

Héloïse holds onto the bumper, legs dangling. Sees the Terminator clinging to the side of the plane, watching them go. 

...

Marianne braces against the dashboard. "Héloïse! Sarah, do you see her?" But then they are spinning in the air, free-falling, any response Sarah might have made becomes a string of profanities. 

Amidst the howling of the wind there's a thump on the roof. Sarah is haphazardly aiming a gun up there, being thrown around by the movement of the truck. A whoosh and the Humvee slows a little, another sound and the spinning evens out. 

Jumping onto the hood, balanced on her knees and a hand, Héloïse. She puts a hand against the windshield and Marianne leans forward to put her hand against it through the glass. The Humvee settles into a graceful descent. 

"Well, look at her go." Sarah is coming around to Héloïse a little late in the day, Marianne thinks. But agrees. 

Héloïse swings along the side, unconcerned about the fact they are hanging in midair, she climbs to the door and gets in. Marianne tugs at her, providing unnecessary help, pulling her close once she clambers in. 

"I thought you were dead." Again, yet again. 

Héloïse's hand tangles in her hair. "Are you OK?"

"I'm OK, I've just been sitting here. Are you?" Marianne runs her hands up Héloïse's bare arms. Héloïse is grimy, Sarah basically shot at her, she fought the Terminator, almost fell out the plane. 

"Fine, I'm fine." She looks through the windshield. Marianne does too. Debris falls around them. But no Terminators. The aeroplane is in a full nose-dive, has overtaken them in a race to the ground now the parachutes are up. Héloïse keeps up the watchfulness. 

"We..." Héloïse says, "we are in a huge forest... and are going to hit the one structure in miles and miles."

Marianne can't see out the windows, sandwiched between Héloïse and Sarah. 

Héloïse frowns. "Maybe I can pull the parachutes..."

"Don't get out, stay inside the _armored vehicle_ ," Marianne urges, thinking this seems pretty obvious. 

"Hold tight," Sarah says. 

Héloïse puts her arm across Marianne. The dam and buildings loom into view. The Humvee scrapes and bounces across tarmac, swings down toward the dam itself. Sarah mutters under her breath. Marianne looks at Héloïse who is deep in concentration. 

They hit the lip of the dam. Sway for a moment. Looking through Héloïse's window Marianne sees nothing, just air. "Out, now," Héloïse says and pushes Marianne along the seat toward Sarah's side. 

Sarah drags and Héloïse pushes and Marianne does not need this much assistance. As she jumps down Sarah catches her, they are quite close to the edge of the dam, a precipitous drop below them. 

The Humvee scrapes across the edge, rocks back. Marianne sees Héloïse scrambling inside, but is gone, crashing down the concrete face. Marianne drops to her hands and knees, looks over the edge as the vehicle smashes into the water. 

Sarah is there. "She'll be fine," she says as she pulls Marianne away. "Come on, she'd want you to keep moving."

"But she's fine," Marianne stammers. "You just said she'll be fine."

"Sure," Sarah says darkly, taking Marianne's arm. Stops, looks. "You're bleeding."

Marianne looks too. "No," she says, but there's blood all over her side. "No." She pulls up her shirt. Nothing. "Héloïse." Héloïse is not fine. Héloïse had been pressed up against her. Héloïse had been bleeding, just fallen off a dam, probably drowning. Héloïse keeps turning back up though so all Marianne can do is believe that she will again. 

"He's coming." Sarah's eyes flick over and Marianne sees movement in the trees on the hill.

She wants Héloïse, she wants Héloïse here. Not to put herself between Marianne and danger, but just here, with her. Or, ideally, nowhere near here. Maybe the mineshaft wasn't such a bad idea. Marianne would take a mineshaft right about now.

Marianne allows Sarah to pull her along. They move to the buildings, try doors, nothing budges, nothing will admit them. "Find a car," Sarah instructs. 

"No..." She slumps against the concrete wall of the building. "I'm not leaving Héloïse."

Sarah's frown shows what she thinks about waiting for Héloïse. 

"I'm not running," Marianne continues. 

"It's just the two of us. And several guns. But still." Sarah is gentler than Marianne has ever seen her. "You tried. Now we run."

...

Héloïse drags herself out onto the bank, spitting and coughing water. It was icy in the river which had worked to her advantage. Cooled her down a bit. Now she looks back toward the dam and realizes she has a good sprint ahead of her.

She takes off, eyes fixed, muscles burning even with all their enhancements. She needs a good shot of her meds, but there aren't any. She needs time, but there isn't any. She needs Marianne, and there she is. 

Marianne sits on the floor, looks up at the sound of Héloïse approaching, rises and opens her arms for Héloïse to crash into them. Only for a moment. 

"Come on," Héloïse says as she takes hold of the door and heaves it. It's heavy and she is nowhere near her best. 

"You're hurt," Marianne says. "Héloïse, stop."

No time. Héloïse stands back and launches herself against the door, which only resounds with a dull thump. She puts her shoulder to it and lets out a dull groan as she pushes, her feet sliding across the floor, digging in, as the lock finally crunches under the pressure. She stumbles into the plant room, all chugging pumps and other machinery. 

Marianne's hands are on her, steadying her, righting her. 

"Break the door why don't you," Sarah grumbles. "He's right behind us."

Héloïse takes Marianne's hands. "Here," she says, trying not to show how much she is panting, in pain and out of breath. 

There's fear in Marianne's eyes now and Héloïse wishes she could do as she always said, just take her away and hide her. But her body is burning, she is bleeding, she is crashing and there are no more meds. She doesn't have time. She has to end it now.

"I have a weapon. Like the EMPs."

Sarah is all over this news. "Where? Why didn't you say?"

"My power source." She gestures to just below her ribs. "If you can get it close enough it will fry his neural networks."

Marianne understands already. They just look into each other's eyes. 

Sarah is still going. "Well, how do we get it out?"

"You can't," Marianne says, just staring at Héloïse. "It will kill you." 

"I'll try to take him with me. If I can't kill him, if I die, you use it."

"No, Héloïse, please, let's go. We run and we keep running, yes?"

Héloïse shakes her head. She understands, that Marianne isn't so much changing her mind as railing, just one last time, against this. And now, to Héloïse, it feels inevitable. Even though she always believed nothing was. Loving Marianne was. So maybe this was too. She was ready for that, as long as Marianne could be safe. She'd come back knowing she would die. It had only been in the brief flurry of the last few days she had allowed herself to dream. It had been worth it, though. She would do it again, a thousand times. To have those few days. To save Marianne. 

To save the debate, to put them out of their misery, the Terminator arrives. 

...

Marianne can only watch as Sarah shoots volley after volley at the Terminator. Héloïse manages to catch him up in a chain, to hold him while Sarah shoots point-blank at his head. Just to weaken him, but he lunges at Héloïse, stabs her again while Sarah loads her gun. 

"Hey!" Marianne shouts. Waving her arms like he's an animal she is attracting the attention of. 

It does the job though, distracts him from Héloïse and in those moments Sarah is rearmed, Héloïse stumbles to her feet. She clutches her side, bleeding onto the floor, but she runs and he is still slow as his body reforms around Sarah's blasts. So that Héloïse can catch him, thump him with an enormous piece of steel. 

Marianne doesn't know what else she can do, if she is capable of helping at all. Can only watch in some mix of horror and admiration as Héloïse inches the Terminator toward the huge turbine in the middle of the hall. Marianne finally thinks she understands. She runs, slides back the door that protects the turbine's innards, or protects the workers from them. Her movement attracts his attention and Héloïse gets the bar back around him, forcing back his head. 

If she can sever it, will that work? Sarah is at Marianne's side now. She tries to aim, but Héloïse is in the way. She pushes the Terminator forward. His arms lengthen and twist into blades that slash at Héloïse's back. But she is winning. 

His head is in the turbine now, being whipped again and again by the blades. Sparks fly, there's a terrible clanging sound, and Héloïse hollers with the effort. The skin on her arms rips along the gashes already inflicted. She tries to push more of him in. 

Sarah's hand is on Marianne. They both stare at the scene, Marianne assumes Sarah is just as in awe as she, but Sarah pulls her away. They are already some distance. There's a smell of burning. Marianne hasn't taken more than a few steps back before the terrible clanging becomes even louder and the figure of the Terminator is gone into the machine. Héloïse kneels in front, catches her breath. As she begins to turn everything goes black. 

Marianne smells the smoke. Is aware her face is pressed into the concrete. She coughs. It stirs up even more dust and soot so she coughs again. Lifts her head away from the cloud of it on the floor. She wipes at her eyes. Her arms move. Her legs move, scrambling on the floor for a moment before finding their strength. She gets to her feet, halfway to her feet at least, needing one hand on the floor to steady herself. 

Piles of debris smoulder and burn. She looks around. The turbine has gone. Sarah is not that far away, also lying on the floor. She hobbles over, puts a hand to Sarah's foot, shakes it. Sarah moans. That's good. 

"Héloïse!" she starts to shout, but her throat is hoarse, the air is hot. Héloïse will be hot, she was already burning up. "Héloïse!" She makes her way back to where the turbine used to stand. There's an eerie creaking noise now. 

Marianne spots legs moving, struggling, among the debris. She runs pulls away a sheet of metal and there is Héloïse. Trying to stand up. "Héloïse, shhh, it's OK. You did it."

Héloïse looks wildly around. "No. He's not..." but she can barely catch her breath. "You have... you have to take it."

Her shirt is ripped, blown away, exposing a pulpy, bloody, metallic mess on her side. Blood and dirt on her face. She is sweating and shivering, struggling to breathe. But she reaches out, takes a piece of glass even as it cuts her hands, holds it, shaking, above herself. Shaking from the pain and the effort, not from any fear. Her eyes are clear and determined. "Take it."

"No." 

"This... is what happens. I'm not in the future with you." She heaves a breath. 

"I thought you said we could change our future?" Marianne puts her hands over Héloïse's and releases the makeshift dagger from them. 

"No... you said that. I learned it... from you."

"And I learned it from you. I'm going to prove it to you." She's not convinced, even without taking her power source, that Héloïse can survive this. She touches Héloïse's cheek, all dirty and bloody and beautiful and strong. 

But she has resolve on her face now. "There you are," Héloïse says quietly. 

Marianne leans over and kisses her. Wipes tears from Héloïse's face, hers, Héloïse's, both. 

She scans the rubble both for the Terminator and for some idea of what she is going to do when she finds him. The air is thick with smoke, chemical smells, dust. A twisted steel rod is exposed and Marianne takes it with her as she prowls the crater where the turbine formerly sat. There's a natural shifting among the debris. Pieces still burning, breaking, falling. Every little sound is heightened, every movement draws her alert eye, every nerve is screaming. 

A scraping sound, too sustained and even to be anything else. Marianne moves lightly through the rubble, the twisted piles of metal, looking for another. On the floor, thrown far by the blast, a shining, gleaming, robotic skeleton crawls. His human exterior destroyed, his joints fusing, his limbs cracked, put through the wringer by Héloïse. Héloïse has given Marianne this chance and she is going to take it. 

The Terminator raises an arm and points it at her. Marianne keeps moving toward him. She is done being afraid of him. And it is only her now. Héloïse is not coming. This time it is Marianne between the Terminator and Héloïse. Between the Terminator and her future, her life. She runs, builds momentum, runs her steel staff through him. He's still as heavy as a lump of metal, but there's less of him now and she forces him back onto the floor. His arm isn't forming, he shakes it, but there's no gun, the metal moves slowly and remains only a misshapen lump.

Marianne leans with all her strength, she shouts and sees why Héloïse likes it, the expression of rage spurring her on. A stake through the chest is not going to kill him. His red eyes look up at her, are calculating her, plotting against her. The rest of his skeleton exposed, she can see circuitry, the faint glow of his vulnerable neural core, the blue shining case of his power core by his spine. He can calculate how to kill her, but she knows his weakness revealed by self-sacrifice and love. She reaches down, one arm keeping pressure pinning him down, her knees on his chest, her hand reaching for his core. He writes but his limbs are inaccurate swipes that Marianne dodges as she rips his power core out in a shower of sparks and in one fluid moment plants it into an eye socket. 

The wild spasms of his limbs become more so. Marianne rolls off him and watches the thrashing. Is he afraid, to die? No, he's a machine, he's only trying to continue his mission. She stands and looks down at him. Let him know he has failed. He has no fear, perhaps shame. Mission incomplete. The blue sparks spread across his head, uncontrollable shaking now as the red light of the eyes grows dimmer and dimmer.

Sarah appears, kicks at the skeleton, swears and hops a little as her foot clangs against the solid metal. Recovers herself. "You did it, kid."

Marianne looks down. Just a tangle of metal, junk, scrap.

"Héloïse." She turns, runs, scrambles back to Héloïse, aware Sarah is following. On her knees next to Héloïse's still body she puts her hands on Héloïse's shoulders, shakes her gently. "Héloïse?" There's no response and Marianne looks desperately over Héloïse's body, but there... the stuttering rise and fall of her chest. 

"She's alive," Marianne says, telling Sarah, but more, telling herself, reassuring herself. "We have to get her out of here."

Sarah looks around. "Cavalry will be coming."

They roll Héloïse onto a sheet of metal as some sort of stretcher and drag her from the building with a great deal of difficulty. 

"Down to the river," Marianne grunts. 

"Just roll her off the fucking dam again," Sarah suggests. "She was fine last time." 

Marianne ignores her. The path is easier, clearer, downhill. She glances back at the facility. A fire has started somewhere. Sarah was right that there will be people there soon. More importantly, Héloïse needs looking after. 

As soon as they draw alongside the river Marianne wades in.

"Too close, they'll see you." 

"Give her to me." Marianne pulls Héloïse from the metal stretcher, down into the icy water. Starts moving downstream, floating Héloïse with her. 

"Gotcha. OK. Guess I'm taking a trip to a pharmacy."

Marianne looks up at Sarah. "Please." Sarah didn't have to do this, any of this. "Sarah, thank you."

"You just take care of our girl."

Héloïse is pale. Marianne cups her hand to pour water onto Héloïse's forehead, to cool her. When she looks back up, Sarah is gone. 

Marianne keeps moving along the river. She's only up to her waist, but it's cold, she stumbles on the rocky bed, the current is strong. Excruciatingly slow progress, but several curves of the river later and they are well out of sight of the dam. Héloïse is still unconscious as Marianne finds a stony beach. Sits down with the water still lapping around them. Holds Héloïse close, kisses the top of her head, waits. 

...

Héloïse's eyes snap open. Her muscles tense and ready for action. There's no smoky building, she's not lying in the rubble, she's not dying. Instead, she is lying in Marianne's lap, hair being stroked, the most beautiful smile looking down at her. 

"Welcome back," Marianne says. "How do you feel?"

Pleasant as this is, Héloïse sits up. They are in a clearing in the woods, the sound of a river nearby, birds singing. "Are you hurt?" she asks Marianne quickly. 

"No." Marianne reaches back to touch her face. "Are you?"

Héloïse looks down at her side, at her arms, sees a diagnostic report. "No. How..."

"I killed him." Marianne says it so simply, as though this were not a near-impossible task. Before Héloïse can say anything she continues. "Sarah wants to get out of here. Make a plan."

"Mineshaft?"

Marianne smiles, shakes her head. "No. Millions, you said, then billions. What if we could stop Legion, before it starts?"

Héloïse looks at her. So young and passionate and trusting. Trusting in the future they could change, they could make. Her Marianne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choose your fighter! 
> 
> Héloïse as the augmented super-soldier from the future? [Choose chapter one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972693/chapters/63139381%22). 
> 
> Marianne as the augmented super-soldier from the future? [Choose chapter two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972693/chapters/63139408).

It's very cold, Marianne thinks. Time displacement causes a strange freezing effect, she knows this, but this is really very cold. She thinks all this while lying face down, eyes closed still, feeling really very, very cold. It's in her nostrils, cold on her skin. She opens her eyes and lifts her head as far as the headache will allow. She is lying, naked, in snow. Anyone else would be hypothermic right now. The side effect of the snow is that it's also very bright and she squints as her optical implants settle down. 

A muffled sound of an engine. Marianne sits, wincing at the headache, puts an arm across her chest. 

A window winds down. Her eyes focus. The man looks concerned, which is nice of him. "What the hell?" His accent, Quebecois, a good sign. 

"What day is it?"

He tells her. Even better. 

"I'm afraid I've had a little joke played on me. Could I possibly get a lift into the city?"

"Sure," he nods, still dumbfounded. 

Before she stands up, though, "I don't suppose you have a blanket or anything?"

...

Héloïse packs her bag with one hand, drinks her coffee with the other. It's still too hot, but she hasn't got time, she's running late. 

"Are you sure you will be alright?"

Her father sits in the armchair with the coffee she has just given him. He sneezes, fishes out his handkerchief. "I'll be fine," he says. 

"Text me if you need anything. I can go to the drug store for you on my lunch break."

"What lunch break? When was the last time you took a lunch break?"

"Funny," she says, not looking at all amused, "you teasing me for being a workaholic. This is the first sick day you've had since I can remember."

"Have a good day," he just says.

Under some impulse, she moves over, kisses his cheek, tries not to spill coffee on him, then leaves. 

...

An underground parking lot starts to suffer a strange weather phenomenon. Ice forms in a circle on the floor. Within, a burly naked man. A car alarm goes off. 

A terrified onlooker is relieved of his clothes, then of his car. Which is driven through the slush on the streets to a small house. 

The man gets out, knocks on the door. When it is opened by Héloïse's father he smiles. "I'm looking for Héloïse." 

"She's at the university," Héloïse's father says, then blows his nose. "Sorry, who are you?"

The man advances into the house. 

...

Marianne comes to the door with Héloïse's name on it. It's locked. She looks up and down the corridor, finds it clear, puts her shoulder to the door and pushes lightly. The lock snaps and the door pops open. Héloïse is not there. 

The next office is inhabited. Marianne puts her head in. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Héloïse?"

"She was here earlier. Probably in the library."

"Wonderful, thank you." Marianne leaves, but returns. "Don't tell anyone else that. In fact, lock your door. In fact, probably best to call it a day and go home." 

She leaves again, hurries to the library next door where she has to pretend she has forgotten both her library card and, yes, her student ID and, in fact, all her IDs, her money, her entire wallet, everything, but she really needs to get into the library for a while. She could just hop over the barrier and go, but she secures an official piece of paper. 

Marianne takes the stairs three at a time up to the fourth floor. Start in literature, she figures. She looks at all the books as she stalks through the stacks. She's not seen this many books in fifteen years or so. Libraries, a relic of an ancient world. To sit and read. To have that time. Instead, she strides along, eyes searching. Until, there is Héloïse. 

Héloïse looks up, toward Marianne, smiles. Marianne remembers to breathe. Héloïse is moving toward her. "Papa, what are you doing here?"

Marianne turns, there's a man coming in their direction. He smiles past Marianne and Héloïse is moving closer too. She is marooned between them. Watching the man. Watching as his arm raises to wave... no, that is a gun. Marianne steps in front of Héloïse as the shot sounds. Feels it ripping into her shoulder. 

There are screams from elsewhere but not Héloïse just behind her. Marianne steadies herself, puts an arm out to keep Héloïse away. The Terminator, because that is undoubtedly who this is, advances, raises the gun again. 

Marianne spins, pushes Héloïse down, starts propelling her through the stacks. There are more gunshots, the damp sound of them hitting paper. Marianne's shoulder throbs. 

"What is happening?" Héloïse hisses. 

"That is not your father. That is a robot sent from the future to kill you."

They reach the far side of the library. Marianne assesses her options. Pulls a fire extinguisher from the wall. A few steps down is a case with an axe. She smashes it with her elbow. 

Students stream around them heading for the exit, but Héloïse and Marianne are still. 

Marianne nods in the direction of the stairs. "You have to run." 

"And what are you going to do?"

"Hold him off, for as long as I can."

Héloïse is confused and it is riling her to anger, Marianne can tell.

"Héloïse, you have to run and you have to hide. Now." It is strange to be so forceful with her. To be the one in charge. 

He's moving through the aisles, getting closer. "Go!" Marianne says over her shoulder and advances, armed with her fire-fighting equipment. 

She comes at him from the side. He's still scanning for Héloïse, not for her. The gun is up, Marianne fears more casualties. She brings the axe down on him, splitting skin but clanging off the metal skeleton. Swings again, embedding it between his neck and shoulder, causing a twitching in his arm. He reaches to pull it out and she smacks him in the face with the extinguisher. It crunches, the human disguise flattening. 

He's unsteady on his feet for a moment and Marianne pulls the shelving down. She needs something more, something bigger. Something that can hold him just long enough for Héloïse to get out of the library. Maybe even for Marianne to go with her. 

Marianne looks around in this moment she has won. Héloïse is there, looking back. 

"Go!" Marianne calls to her.

"What is that thing?"

"Something that will kill you, if you don't run." Marianne moves around as the Terminator tosses the shelving unit away. She axes him in the face, aiming for the mouth. If she can just... But Héloïse is still there, distracting her. Distracting him. He lifts his arm again. Marianne pushes against him with all her might, knocks him enough that the shot goes wide. 

Héloïse responds finally, moves. Marianne buries the axe in his armpit, very temporarily disabling that arm. She empties the extinguisher into his face. Slams him with the butt of it. Takes the axe and pushes it into his mouth. If she can sever his head it will buy them a few minutes. The gun goes off, into her thigh. The pain pushes her on, pushing down, crunching through the metal. He twitches. A grenade would be handy, but she doubts a university library has them in stock. 

"Watch out," Marianne hears, turns just in time to see another set of shelves headed her way, moves just in time. 

Héloïse stands, panting. "Run," Marianne says, taking her by the shoulders and making her. 

...

Héloïse gets steered through the crowd outside the library where police cars are beginning to gather and students are crying. Next to her, this woman is walking very upright and brisk for someone who has been shot. 

"You need to go to the hospital," Héloïse says. "Just wait here, there will be ambulances."

"Can't go to the hospital. Have to keep moving. Have to get you away."

" _I've_ not been shot," Héloïse points out. 

"You will be if we don't keep moving." This stranger is slowing now, limping more. Héloïse looks down.

"Shot twice. How are you still walking?" But she is sweating, looks pale. "That's it, the hospital."

She stumbles, Héloïse catches at her. "No. No, a pharmacy."

"You need more than a pharmacy," Héloïse is getting cross now. 

In reply, the woman rips the shirt from her shoulder. Héloïse sees the entry wound for the bullet. Around the wound, under the skin, something metallic shines. 

"You're... you're like him?"

"No. I'm human. From the future. I've been augmented. Superpowers. I can't go to the hospital."

Héloïse waves her arm at the road. A cab pulls over. "Nearest pharmacy," she instructs, pulling this woman in after her. "Superpowers?" she whispers, harshly. "What's wrong with you then?" Because she is slumping, sweating, pale. 

"I'm crashing. I was sent back here to save you. To stop him, or try. To give you the chance to get away. You have to run, hide..." Her head rolls back. 

Héloïse puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her from falling from the seat. 

"I wasn't supposed to still be alive."

Héloïse is brisk, business-like. "Except you are and here we are." She pays the driver, pulls the woman from the car. She's tall, but slender and far heavier than she ought to be. 

They crash into the pharmacy. "Excuse me!" Héloïse commands. "A little help here." She looks at Marianne. "What do you need?"

Marianne starts listing drugs, but drowsily. 

"I can't just give you that," the clerk objects. 

"Look at her," Héloïse says. They both do. The woman attempts a polite smile.

"She needs to go to the hospital."

Héloïse puts her down. Moves around the desk, pushes past the clerk, collects the damn drugs herself. Plus bandages, syringes, whatever she can put her hands on. 

"I'm calling the police."

"They're busy," Héloïse says. Pushes past him again on the way out. 

Her rescuer is sitting on the floor against the checkout. "Could I possibly have some water?"

Héloïse takes a bottle and it is opened and poured directly over the woman's head. 

"Wonderful. Another?" 

This one is drunk. 

"We'll go to my house."

The woman is drifting. "No!" she says forcefully. "He'll know."

The clerk is on the phone so wherever they go Héloïse thinks it needs to be fast. She starts pulling the woman to her feet. "How are you so heavy?" she complains.

"A lot of metal," she mumbles into Héloïse's shoulder as they hobble outside. Héloïse waits to hail another taxi. Manages to get them inside. Calls out a motel address on the outskirts of the city. She can't get the woman sat, so she lies across Héloïse's lap instead. 

"She alright?"

"Overindulged. She won't be sick." That was generally the main concern. There was no vomiting, just quiet shivering and shaking. Héloïse puts her hand to a clammy forehead, rubs reassuringly at an arm. 

At the motel, she leaves her barely-conscious companion outside while she takes the room. Inside they tumble to the floor. She's a dead weight and Héloïse can't get her back up. Just fetches a glass of water and pours it on her then opens the bag from the pharmacy. Rips open the packet of the syringe and starts pushing drugs. 

... 

Marianne is trapped halfway between a dream and a memory, floating on a cloud of pain. She remembers losing consciousness, being aware of it, terrified she was dying. Not terrified to die, but that she hadn't done enough. The Terminator wasn't dead and Héloïse wasn't safe. She had failed on all counts. 

She remembers her last fight. They had known Legion was building a time displacement machine. The power to travel through time. To take the fight to the past. The Commander ordered the strike, led the charge. Marianne was there, Marianne was always there. 

It went badly. There weren't enough of them. The Resistance, ground down, worn thin. Even the iron will of the Commander couldn't win them a victory. 

In Marianne's memory the Commander lies unconscious on a stretcher in front of her. They are racing back to base, bloody and bruised. 

Her squad leader seizes Marianne's shoulders. "We're being followed. Get the Commander inside."

The troop carrier couldn't get close enough to the gates before it was bombarded and everyone leaps out. Marianne takes hold of the stretcher, her squad leader behind her. Starts running, jogging across uneven ground with missiles dropping all around them. Terminators, older models, drop from the sky too. Shooting directly from their gun-like arms. 

Marianne ducks and weaves. Her squad leader calls out and she turns in time to see him drop to the floor. A sharp pain in her own shoulder, one in her hip. She stumbles backward. Falls, draws her gun, blasts the Terminator in the head. It drops, for now. 

There's another. Marianne rolls herself between it and the Commander, a spray of bullets across her chest. Even the ones caught in her bulletproof vest knock the wind from her. But in her belly, her arm, the bullets chew through flesh and burn. She shoots, looks behind her at the Commander. Who is no more harmed than before. Marianne wraps her arms around the Commander's torso and pulls, collapsing into the open doors of the bunker. The Commander is immediately put on another stretcher and taken away, Marianne staring helplessly after them. 

"Shit," a medic says. "We have a lot of gunshot wounds here. Internal bleeding. Marianne..." 

"It's OK," Marianne says. The pain has turned her whole body cold. It's refreshing. It hardly feels like she has a body at all. Floating, a sharp, cool, sensation. She had got the Commander inside. Mission accomplished. 

Except, the mission had failed. The time displacement facility remained. Legion was on the cusp of total victory. The Commander was still in danger. 

Marianne fights her way back to consciousness. "The augmentation program," she rasps. 

"No," the medic says. "No-one has survived."

"I'm dying anyway," she says and she can tell from his eyes it's true. "Make me an augment."

... 

Héloïse sits on the edge of the bed. Her patient's temperature has gone down, she's no longer sweating and shaking. Gingerly, Héloïse peels back layers around the gunshot wound in the shoulder. It is bloody and swollen but... it shouldn't be possible. The silvery mesh covers the hole now and it is much smaller than it was. 

There is sudden movement and Héloïse's wrist is seized. She looks into wide, startled, startlingly beautiful, eyes. "Hey, it's OK. You're safe."

The stranger sits bolt upright. "Are you OK? Where are we?"

"I'm OK. Some motel."

The woman gets up, moves to the window. "I think you ought to be lying down," Héloïse objects. 

"How long?"

"I'm not sure. A few hours?"

The woman looks at the detritus from the pharmacy. "You did this?"

Héloïse nods. "There's a spare," she says, indicating the second syringe. 

"Thank you," the woman says so gently, like she didn't save Héloïse's life first, take bullets for her. 

"How are you OK? What's happening? What's..." So many questions. "What's your name?"

She smiles, dips her head. "Marianne." 

"Marianne. Thank you, for saving me." For a moment that's all that is necessary. Until the questions come again. 

Marianne explains, patiently, again, that she is an augmented super-soldier. Shows Héloïse the wound now completely healed on her shoulder. "Super-strength, super-reflexes, that sort of thing."

"Super-heavy."

Marianne holds up her arm, traces her finger across a long, pale scar. "Scaffolding, I suppose. Reinforced." There are more, similar, scars across her collarbones, under her jaw, light dots on her temples. 

"Why?" 

"Where I come from we need super soldiers." She looks sad for a moment. 

"The future? So you came back from the future..."

"Because he came back, the Terminator. To kill you and I came back to stop it, or to try."

"To try?"

"You can't fight Terminators. Not these ones. You run and you hide."

"But you fought it. I saw you."

"You were supposed to be running and hiding."

"While it killed you?"

Marianne sighs. "That was always a possibility. I knew that, when I came back."

"You volunteered for an assignment with a two-minute life expectancy?"

"Yes," Marianne simply replies.

"I don't understand."

"To save you. The future needs you."

"What are you not telling me?"

"A lot. I can't. I was told not to." 

Héloïse exhales, frustrated. "I need to go home. Tell my father."

Marianne frowns. "Héloïse... the man at the library..."

"The Terminator. He disguised himself as my father. I am keeping up." She can't keep the frustration from her voice. 

"That means he was at your house. He saw your father, took his form. That's not something people survive. I'm sorry."

"You're telling me my father is dead?"

Marianne nods. "I'm sorry," she says again. She means it, Héloïse can see that, she is close to heartbroken whereas Héloïse feels only empty. 

"The Terminator knows where you live. It's not safe to go back." Marianne pauses. "What do you need? What can I do for you?" Héloïse is numb. What does she need? What _should_ she need? On a day like today? She doesn't know. Marianne reaches for her, but Héloïse pushes her away. "I need to be on my own."

"I can't do that. I... I'll be just outside. OK?"

Héloïse nods and Marianne lets herself out the door. 

...

After a few hours, Marianne is readmitted. Héloïse stands, business-like, in the doorway. "What now?"

Marianne wants to console her, give her more time, give her more support. But she is not surprised by the reaction. Instead, she pulls up her shirt and after a startled look Héloïse bends in closer. 

"Co-ordinates," Marianne says. "In case I got this far, needed help."

"For John," Héloïse reads from below. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know."

"What's at the co-ordinates?"

"I don't know."

"You could have come back with a little more information." 

Marianne gives her the closest thing to a glare she could muster. "Make a note," she replies. 

"And how do we get there?"

"We drive. Most of the way. Then we walk. Drive a bit more. That sort of thing." 

"You should probably..." Héloïse indicates Marianne's general appearance. Bloodstained and ripped.

"I probably should." 

As a precaution, Marianne pulls the drapes, puts a bed across the door, wants Héloïse to sit in the closet. This last is denied. Marianne takes a very quick shower but has nothing to change into. She exits the bathroom in a towel. 

"Oh," Héloïse says. 

Marianne examines her pants, bloodsoaked, and her shirt, bloodsoaked _and_ ripped. "I probably should have thought of that too." 

Héloïse goes into the bathroom and comes out a moment later buttoning up her shirt, handing over a tank top. "Now you just need something for the..." She indicates Marianne's bottom half. 

Slightly more decent Marianne wanders around the balcony of their floor, looking in windows. She illegally gains entry and takes some briefs, pants, a jacket. Some snacks. 

Then illegally takes a car from the parking lot and they set off. 

"You should probably try to get some sleep," she tells Héloïse. 

"And you?" 

"I don't need much sleep."

"I don't know if I can. I'd read, but..."

"I'll steal you one at the next rest stop," Marianne smiles.

"Not sure anything you can buy at a rest stop will appeal."

"That's right, I forget you are an _intellectual_." Marianne is enjoying herself too much, almost goes too far. Héloïse looks at her sharply. "Working at a university," she explains. 

Héloïse only nods.

"I haven't..." Marianne begins, pauses, considers, but forges on, "seen a library like yours for a long time."

"You didn't go to university?"

"There are no universities any more, where I am from. By the time I was old enough they were all gone."

Héloïse stiffens next to her. "But you remember, before?"

"Sure. I'm out there." She waves her hand toward the window. 

"You're already alive?"

"It's, what, 2019? I'm nine." 

"I'm nearly twenty years older than you."

"Not right now," Marianne smiles at her. 

"So it's soon? It happens soon?"

"A few years."

Héloïse looks out the window. 

"I'm sorry. This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"No, I want to know. I do."

"Yes." Marianne knew Héloïse would want to know. That's why she is telling her. "It's quick. No-one sees it coming. There's nothing to see coming. One day everything is perfectly normal. So normal I can't even remember the day before, the last day. Just a normal day. Overlooked. No-one appreciating it. Then the next day there was no power, no signal, no water, nothing.

"The day after that the world went to war against a computer program. Legion was a military program gone wrong. And it fought back. Nukes launched. Millions of people died. Then, in the next few years without food, without power, billions. My family. Everyone's family, to be fair. Legion just had to pick off the survivors. 

"Then, one day, it was about to be me. Killed for my food. By people, not even by Legion. Just good, old-fashioned, human greed and violence. Until the Commander found me. Saved me. The Commander saved us all. Found us in the rubble. Built a Resistance. To fight Legion, to fight against our fate, to fight for our future."

Héloïse just stares.

"I'm sorry, it's too much."

"No, no. _I'm_ sorry. For everything you lost."

You are going to lose it too, Marianne thinks. Cannot say it. You are going to lose it and you are going to fight. 

"I look now and I see trees growing, people walking on the streets, shops full of food and _things_... It's beautiful. It's so beautiful."

"I never really thought about it. I should."

Héloïse looks out the window. Points out a few sights. Marianne smiles, relaxes into the seat.

...

They pass many rest stops that Marianne deems too organized, too busy, too likely to have camera surveillance. Until Héloïse demands a stop, not by the side of the road. 

Marianne fills the car. Says she never got to fill a car, back when there were cars and gas. So Héloïse goes into the store. Picks up some books. Pays cash. 

Back in the car, she takes the driver's seat. Marianne looks at her quizzically, even more so when the books are tossed at her. Until she realizes, smiles, and it's so beautiful it hits Héloïse right in the stomach. 

The next four hours Marianne sits with her knees up on the seat, curled round the book, holding it so gently like it's a Gutenberg Bible. Héloïse has seen a Gutenberg Bible and this is not it. She's not going to tell Marianne that. 

But when Héloïse yawns all attention is back on her. They stop, switch seats, and Héloïse is tempted. Her first instinct is that she would not be caught dead reading this. But she already nearly died today. It is getting dark though and she is tired right through her bones. 

"Are you comfortable?" Marianne asks, knowing. "Do you want us to stop somewhere?"

"No, I'm OK."

"We'll stop when we get closer to the border then. You relax."

Despite it all, Héloïse reflects, she does feel relaxed. She wants to escape her thoughts into unconsciousness, but she feels safe enough to do so. She breathes deep, breathes out some of the tension. Watches Marianne's hands on the wheel. Then closes her eyes. 

In no time at all the car comes to a halt and it rouses Héloïse. She looks at Marianne. 

"We'll dump the car here, walk into town," Marianne says. 

Héloïse helps her push the car into a ditch, though Marianne needs no help, then cover it with branches, kick some snow over it. 

It's cold as they walk into town. Héloïse is not dressed for it and rubs her arms. Instantly Marianne takes off her jacket. "Here."

"Keep it," Héloïse says through chattering teeth. "Appearances sake." Marianne wandering around in just a sleeveless shirt in this weather is going to draw attention. 

But Marianne moves in front of her, stops her then starts to push a sleeve over Héloïse's hand. A tiny laugh of frustration. "Your arm," she says. Héloïse is unmoving. "Can I just?" A hesitation as Marianne's hands hover. 

Héloïse nods. Lets Marianne put her into the jacket. Enjoys the feeling of Marianne's hands on her, directing her. Just as she has given over her life to Marianne, to let Marianne guide and protect her. Something comforting in handing over control. Until Marianne tucks a finger between Héloïse's neck and her hair, pulling it out over the collar. Then it is not comforting at all, it is something entirely different.

Marianne only smiles. "Better?"

Héloïse nods dumbly and they continue walking. She wants to take the jacket off and give it back, use the excuse they are almost in town. Wants to take Marianne's bare arms and guide her through the motions. Wants to touch Marianne like that, run her fingertips over skin, through hair. 

But they walk on and Héloïse knows, before Marianne moves, which hotel they will be staying at. The most rundown, shadiest-looking. 

"I'll go in," Marianne says. Héloïse waits outside, stamping her feet. They are going to need better gear to cross the border on foot. But first to get some proper food in them. Not just rest stop snacks. Could they eat out somewhere? Somewhere low-key. 

The idea of sitting across from Marianne in a restaurant. Had Marianne ever eaten in a restaurant, as an adult, sat with someone? A date, Héloïse forces herself to acknowledge, she is thinking about a date. The realisation drops to the pit of her stomach and immediately begins to fester there. How dare she. After everything that has happened, how dare she want this. 

Marianne reappears just in time to stop Héloïse's self-pity getting out of control. 

But Héloïse can't help herself. A glutton for punishment. "We need to eat."

Marianne is busy moving through the small room, checking it, looking at sightlines, calculating whatever it is her super-soldier brain and training needed to know. "Yes," she mumbles an agreement, but is still moving, not concentrating. Then stops, looks at Héloïse so bright and open. "Yes," she says again. "Shall I go out and get us something? Something not from a vending machine?"

"Would it be safe for us both to go, do you think?" Héloïse feels very transparent but forges on. In any case, date or not, she can't stay in this dank little room. She needs to be out and about. 

"Yes, I don't see why not."

As anticipated they end up in a little diner. Marianne takes the menu and looks at it with awe. Héloïse sees only standard diner-fare, but realizes Marianne is seeing feasts of mythic proportions. The idea, now, of sitting opposite Marianne in a restaurant is an entirely different one, a heartbreakingly tender one of sharing this with her. 

So Héloïse doesn't say anything as Marianne orders far too much food. 

When the waitress has gone Marianne smiles at her, gently. "How are you?"

"Fine."

Marianne nods. Héloïse knows it is all understood. That Héloïse is not fine, that Marianne knows this. That Héloïse must say she is, for now. That Marianne will be there, for when she is not. 

Héloïse moves on. "This is a bit different from your usual menu?"

It makes Marianne smile. "Almost certainly rats." She looks at Héloïse's horrified face. "That's a joke! At least, I think it's a joke. It might not be a joke. We'll pretend it's a joke." She relaxes. "It's hard to run a canteen when you live in a bunker and are being hunted by a murderous AI. I'm just grateful we had food. Plus, super-soldier metabolism needs a lot of feeding."

"You don't strike me as the type. To be a soldier."

"No," Marianne agrees. "That was sort of the point." And she looks up at Héloïse through her eyelashes, shy and searching, but Héloïse doesn't know why. 

The food arrives and now Marianne's eyes are wide. Héloïse takes a moment to appreciate it too, the prospect of the end of the world bringing clarity. Though, as the past day or so has taught her, you never know when everything is about to change.

Marianne looks at her like she knows what she is thinking. Or could make a good guess and Héloïse believes it. 

They eat, Marianne trying everything, Héloïse hungrier than she realized. And they talk, picking their way through the minefields in the conversation. Trying to avoid Héloïse's job and everything she has lost, the hazards of Marianne's life in the future, the coming apocalypse. It should have been an impossible task, but it wasn't. Almost the only reminder is how Marianne faces the door, scrutinises everyone who comes in. The rest of the time Héloïse can almost believe the world isn't ending. 

...

Marianne has a very satisfying meal. She can't bear to see anything go to waste. She can't bear dipping into coat pockets on the way out, fishing for wallets, but she does. Taking the cash, leaving the cards, the personal photos, and replacing the wallet again. Strange scruples, she thinks, but then where are we without our scruples? Even at the end of the world. 

Not much cash, but enough for a pair of coats, sweaters and some boots. They head back to the motel. 

"We'll cross tonight. Daytime might be easier and we could always say we got lost if we are caught, but nighttime is less chance of being caught in the first place."

Héloïse just nods. 

"You should rest," Marianne says. "Not sure when you'll get another chance."

"I don't think I can," Héloïse replies. "I might get a shower though."

Marianne draws the drapes and positions herself by the smallest crack in them. Looking out the window, but more importantly with her back to Héloïse. Is very aware of every sound behind her. The drawing of the shower curtain, the beating of the water, the squeak of Héloïse's bare feet in the tub. Imagines she can hear the sound of the towel, but there are limits even to these augmentations. The time and the sounds say that Héloïse is getting dressed in the bathroom and this is proven correct as Héloïse comes to stand by her, fully dressed and ready. 

"I hate waiting."

Marianne laughs a little. Bites back the "I know." Instead, "Let's go, then." 

...

Crunching through the snow, Héloïse follows Marianne. Who is always looking, always assessing.

"Not much further," Marianne says, but instantly freezes. "Wait." 

They pause, Héloïse freezing, in more ways than one. She's about to ask why, until Marianne says, "There's a drone."

"US Border agents?"

"Maybe. Do they do that, up here?"

"I've never tried to illegally enter the United States, I wouldn't know." Héloïse tries to smile as she says it, but it's grimmer than she had intended. 

"We have to keep moving or you will freeze. Try to stay in the trees." Marianne starts walking again, something more deliberate in her step. Héloïse follows.

But then there is a break in the tree line. Marianne puts out her hand behind her and Héloïse, not knowing whether this is a signal or a general protective gesture or something specific, takes it in her own. It makes the walking trickier, but it's worth it for the contact, the safety, of knowing Marianne has ahold of her. Marianne makes no objection. 

"Is it still there?" Héloïse whispers, as though it could hear her. 

"Further away," Marianne whispers back, making Héloïse feel less foolish, though then worrying that was why Marianne had done it. It seems plausible. "Something else though." Looking around and pulling Héloïse toward a rocky outcrop barely big enough for them both to get behind. "You've got the co-ordinates?"

"I'm not leaving you." They were on a scrap of paper in her pocket, but this was irrelevant. 

"You have to."

Then Héloïse heard it, the snowmobiles. "Border patrol. So we say we're lost, thank goodness they found us, the big strong men. They'll take us back, we'll try again." Her breath steamed out, steamed Marianne almost out of sight. 

"Not if he is following us. I'm going to make a diversion. You go."

The snowmobiles are getting too close now. Honing in. They know where to look. Marianne looks over the rocks. Moves in front of Héloïse. 

Lights shine around them, torches wielded haphazardly. All too late. 

Marianne turns to Héloïse. "You run and you hide." 

They are still holding hands. Marianne takes Héloïse's in both of hers, squeezes it.

"No," Héloïse says. Stands. Lights instantly in her face. Marianne immediately rises too, in front of her. 

Héloïse does not want a human shield. Least of all Marianne. She raises her hands. "Marianne!" she prompts. "I don't want to see you get shot again."

Marianne's hands go up too. Everything seems like it could be civil until it is realized that neither Héloïse nor Marianne have any ID of any sort on them, which complicates matters. Or really have anything on them that a hiker would have. Not lending their cover story much credence. They are handcuffed and pulled apart while various radios are conferred with. 

Then Marianne tenses, looks up. Héloïse does too, automatically. A moment later one of the agent's eyes follow. "The fuck is that?" he says. 

"Drone," Marianne says. Héloïse watches as with barely any effort she moves her hands apart and the handcuffs shatter. 

"Hey!" The agent's attention is back on Marianne, who sprints the short distance to Héloïse. 

"Marianne..." Héloïse only has time to say before she is bodily picked up and tossed as the whole area lights up with an explosion. 

She rolls, bounces in the snow, comes to rest feeling the heat of the inferno to her back. She scrambles, still handcuffed. There is yelling and the overwhelming brightness still burned into her eyes. One of the snowmobiles explodes. Looking over to it Héloïse finally sees Marianne lying in the snow, crumpled and blackened and not moving. 

...

Why, Marianne muses, are hospitals so uniformly depressing and identifiable even when only semi-conscious? Something about the smell, perhaps, or the light, or the ambient noise of beeps. She is in hospital, she realizes, and quickly comes all the way to consciousness. Sits up to a yelp of alarm from a doctor. She feels clammy, shaky. 

Marianne looks around hurriedly. An X-ray of her chest stuck against the lightbox, all metal reinforcements. She is restrained, but pops them off easily. She ignores the calls of the doctor for security. A hospital gown wafts around her. She approaches him. "I'm sorry, this is going to be embarrassing, but I really need your clothes." 

"No," he stutters. 

She hates to do it, but she puts her hand to his throat and starts to raise him into the air. 

"OK! OK!" 

While he disrobes she spots her syringe lying on a metal tray. Takes it and stabs it into her leg. Gets dressed and by the time she has done so the tremors have abated. 

In the corridor, she barges through the incoming security detail. Not a hospital at all, but the medical wing of a facility where she hopes desperately Héloïse is also detained. On the way down the stairs, she trips another member of security and winces as he falls awkwardly. 

On the ground floor, she crashes through a locked door and is in the large holding area. Searching, scanning for Héloïse. The hair, the stature, the presence of her. Pops open door after door and the detainees stream out. 

There is a shout at the other end of the hall. For her? No, the crashing and screaming tell her that the Terminator is here too. Found them with the drone and has caught up with them again. 

Marianne runs from door to door. There, Héloïse is there. She races to Marianne, puts her hands to Marianne's face and Marianne would stay there if she could, stay for an eternity. But they have to go and she takes Héloïse's hand and pulls her away. 

Shots are being fired and Marianne knows it will barely even slow him down. That these people are no match for him and she could help, but she has to get Héloïse away. A side door that she leans against with her shoulder. Other people from the cells follow them. She doesn't know where she is leading them, can only hope. 

A heavy door in front of her now. She lets go of Héloïse to put all her might behind it, but she can feel Héloïse's hands on her back, pouring strength into her, grounding her, motivating her. Beyond the door, the outside, the cold sting, but freedom. And, even better, a helicopter. 

"Chopper!" she yells, but takes Héloïse's hand again anyway as they run full pelt across the yard. Looks over her shoulder in time to see the Terminator exiting the building too. Runs that little bit faster, as fast as she can with Héloïse in tow. Reminded of Héloïse's fragile humanness, as if she could ever forget. As they get close, the final leap into the chopper where she scrambles to the pilot's seat and sets the thing going. Looks up to see him running furiously at them. Pulls the chopper up, into the air as he jumps in a last-ditch attempt to grasp at them, but misses by a fraction. 

Héloïse scrambles away from the open door, clinging to Marianne's seat. 

"Are you OK?" Marianne calls over her shoulder. "Come here, get strapped in." She offers her hand and helps Héloïse into the seat next to her. They take a moment to catch their breath. 

"I'm OK," Héloïse says eventually. "Are you?"

"I'm fine. Took my meds. Good job on the spare." She tries to smile at Héloïse as reassurance, but is met by an anxious frown and an edge of panic in steely grey eyes. 

Héloïse puts a hand on Marianne's bare arm. Then the back of her hand to Marianne's forehead. 

"Satisfied, doctor?"

"Not really," Héloïse grumbles. Then, small and contrite, "I was afraid."

"You don't need to be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you," Marianne says quietly. A vow, a desperate pledge she can't be sure will be true, but knows she would die for. 

"That's not what I was afraid of," Héloïse replies with shattering intensity.

"Héloïse..." She has tried to make Héloïse aware of how this works. That she herself is in no doubt, has no regrets. But all she can feel is the leaping of her heart, leaping forward to collide with what she hears in Héloïse's voice. 

...

It's fully daylight when they near the co-ordinates. Héloïse wonders why this stowaway helicopter hasn't had company. Marianne says it might be to do with the mess left behind at the detention centre where they had bigger problems to worry about. Marianne puts down a little distance from the co-ordinates and they walk the rest of the way. 

Héloïse feels she has transcended such base concepts as tiredness. This is in a whole new world of fatigue and apparently in this world sleep is impossible. So she trudges through the forest, once more following Marianne, who is once more entirely inappropriately dressed, but unaffected, whereas Héloïse would be cold if she were alert enough to register it. Instead, transcended. 

"There," Marianne says and puts her arm out to hold Héloïse back. 

Héloïse looks through the trees, but sees nothing. 

"Also, traps," Marianne adds, still scanning the area. "Wait here."

Héloïse does as she is told, which would surprise her under normal circumstances, but this is so far from normal. She watches Marianne pick up... not a branch, as such, more an entire log... and toss it. A small blast, far enough away not to trouble them. But Marianne comes back, puts herself in front of Héloïse. A shot rings out, echoing sharp through the trees. A whizz and puff of snow at Marianne's feet. 

"For John," Marianne calls out, echoing again. Waits a moment. Takes a step forward. Nothing happens. Beckons Héloïse to stay close behind her. Héloïse is unimpressed with this person who is supposed to be helping them, but who is taking shots at Marianne instead. 

A little further through the trees and Héloïse sees the cabin. As they come to the clearing the door swings open. An older woman stands with a rifle pointing at them. 

"Stay where you are," she shouts, gruff. "What do you want?"

Marianne stops. "I was told to come here, to these co-ordinates, as part of my mission."

"What mission?"

"Her," Marianne says, gesturing back at Héloïse, but not moving, not allowing the woman a good look. "She's my mission. To protect her."

"You're from the future." It's delivered almost with resignation. "Come on in then." She leaves the door open and disappears inside. 

Marianne turns to Héloïse. Waits for some sort of approval. Héloïse shrugs. They've not been shot or blown up, when they could have been. So why not. 

They enter the cabin, where the woman is making a pot of coffee. "So," she says, "apparently I am running some sort of halfway house for waifs and strays from the apocalypse."

Héloïse bristles and watches Marianne clear her throat. "Thank you, for letting us in. I'm Marianne. This is Héloïse. My Commander had these co-ordinates tattooed on me. Said that you would help."

"Was it John? John Connor, leader of the Resistance? Savior of humanity?"

Marianne shakes her had. "No. I don't know a John Connor." Sarah sags a little. "I'm sorry," Marianne adds, being entirely too nice about it all. 

"The future is like that. Tricky. So, her." And she looks at Héloïse and Héloïse does not like it one bit. 

"A Terminator has been sent for Héloïse -" Marianne starts to explain. 

"Are you pregnant?" Sarah asks, interrupting, starting at Héloïse now.

"No," Héloïse replies, disgusted. 

"Alright, honey, I didn't ask if you'd drowned a kitten."

"I haven't fucked a man in a decade."

"Well, that explains why you're so uptight."

"I didn't say I haven't had sex," Héloïse snaps. "Plenty of sex, no men, so no pregnancy. Now or ever."

"Huh," Sarah says. Héloïse feels re-appraised. She's used to it. Puts her chin up. "Maybe you'll fancy a change." Héloïse moves toward her, blood pumping. Sarah grins, knows she has pushed buttons, but Marianne gets in the way. 

"Simmer down," Marianne murmurs, the tiniest smile playing on her lips, their heads close. Héloïse likes that. 

Sarah isn't at all thrown off. "A Terminator came to kill me to stop my son being born. The leader of the Resistance. We changed the future, we stopped the apocalypse. John died anyway. Now I fight Terminators."

"I am sorry for your loss," Marianne says gently. 

Sarah shrugs it off. "I have tech I thought would pick this up."

Marianne shakes her head. "Probably because it's new. A new machine for time displacement, a new Terminator model."

"Oh good, got that to look forward to."

"The Resistance will destroy the facility. I know they will. There won't be any more."

"Sure," Sarah says with deep scepticism and Héloïse is ready to throw down again, in some strange defense of Marianne's optimism. 

Marianne knows though, is reaching out to Héloïse as she speaks to Sarah. "Will you help us?"

Sarah looks slowly from Marianne to Héloïse. "Oh, go on then." Looks back at Héloïse. "I don't like you. But most days I don't like myself much either. So, why not. Always happy to help fuck up the future." 

"Thank you," says Marianne. 

"First order of business," Sarah says, "get a shower. She stinks and you're covered in blood. Help yourself to clothes. If you can find any that will fit. I'm going to check on a few things. In case we get company."

"You don't stink," Marianne says once Sarah is gone. "I would know."

"Nor do you. Though you are covered in blood and explosion. You wear it well though."

Marianne lets out a little laugh, looking down at herself. "Do you mind if I go first then?"

"Sure."

While Marianne goes into the bathroom Héloïse goes to the bedroom. Looks at the clothes and picks out some that might fit Marianne, lays them out ready on the bed. Then lies herself down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's only a matter of minutes before Marianne comes in. "You must be exhausted."

Héloïse looks over. Marianne is wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, stood at the end of the bed looking at the clothes. "No," she just says, feeling very inappropriate right down in her belly. 

She rolls away as Marianne changes, until Marianne sits on the edge of the bed next to her. Héloïse looks up at her and smiles, because she can't help it. 

"I think I preferred it when it was just the two of us." She whispers it though she is sure Sarah isn't around. 

Marianne smiles back. "I know." Grows serious. "But we need help. You are too important."

"I trust you."

A little shake of the head. 

Héloïse half sits up, puts her hand over Marianne's. 

"You're too important," Marianne just repeats and before Héloïse can say how important Marianne is too, say any of the other things she wants to say, _ask_ anything, Marianne says, "Let's find Sarah, then. Make a plan." Stands up. 

The hands must be relinquished, they must go back into a world that contains other people, needs plans for survival. Sulking, Héloïse follows Marianne and they find Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, an alarming array of guns spread before her, cleaning and dismantling. 

Sarah looks them up and down with a critical eye. "Better," she says. "So. When do we fight this thing?" 

Marianne sits, so Héloïse does too. Across from Sarah where she can keep the two of them in her sights. 

"You don't fight a Terminator," Marianne says. Héloïse knows what is coming next. "You run and you hide."

"Beg to differ," Sarah says. "I've fought plenty."

"Not the newest model. It's too dangerous."

"Also, you are definitely hiding," Héloïse adds.

Sarah gives her a look. Marianne does too, though hers is much more sympathetic, amused, fond. 

"The mission is to protect Héloïse. She has to make it to the future." There's only a glance in Héloïse's direction, but Héloïse sees the fear and frustration there. 

"Yeah, yeah, mother of the savior of humanity. I get it."

Marianne looks almost as chagrined as Héloïse feels. 

"But listen," Sarah continues. "You will never be safe. I thought I was. Years later the Terminator caught up with me. You think there's no fighting them? There's no hiding either."

Marianne puts a hand to her head.

"Why can't we fight it?" Héloïse says suddenly. "Three of us, with a real plan, we could fight it. You've come so close," she says to Marianne. "But we're just supposed to keep hiding until the world ends?" Héloïse looks at Marianne carefully. "I'm not having a child," she says. "Anyway, the timescale doesn't make sense. Anyone born now or in the next few years would be too young, surely?" 

Marianne smiles a little, shakes her head. Not at the question, Héloïse realizes, but at Héloïse herself. That fondness and frustration. 

She continues. "And you've never mentioned it. But then, you've never said why."

"No," Marianne finally says. "It's not your child."

Héloïse breathes. 

"But I can't... I was told not to."

"Will it change things? Some... time paradox?"

Marianne shakes her head. "The Commander didn't believe in fate or anything like that. More that we can change things, we _should_ change things. Not give our futures up to fate. Fight for them."

"That's what we are talking about now, though. Fighting. Not running and hiding. Your Commander big on running and hiding?"

Marianne smiles so fondly. "No. She's not. She's the bravest, angriest person. The most passionate and fierce. When she asks you to march into hell and burn it down, you do. When she tells you there's no fate but what we make for ourselves, you believe her. When you get that look in your eyes, all fire and steel, I know there's no arguing with you."

Héloïse feels Marianne's words ripple through her. The way Marianne looks at her, the way the hair on the back of her neck prickles, the way her breath heaves. She can't say anything, wouldn't know what to say, doesn't know how to force words from her chest. 

"It's you. You are the leader of the Resistance. That's why Legion wants you dead. Because you are going to end it and save humanity." 

Héloïse can only stare at Marianne, who is only staring back. Their breathing seems to match. Everything has narrowed to this point. To Marianne telling her this. To the way Marianne looks at her. Fond and frustrated, Héloïse had thought, had dared to think. This is more awe and fear. What does Marianne see, in Héloïse's eyes? 

"Wait a goddamned minute -" Sarah brings them crashing back down to earth. " _She's_ the savior?"

Marianne nods, not taking her eyes off Héloïse. "Do you see, now?" She says it only to Héloïse. "You saved me. Now I'm here to save you."

"I'm not making it easy for you."

Now Marianne laughs, breaks eye contact. "No, you are not," she says vehemently. "But then I don't suppose I expected anything else." Looks back for a moment with amusement. 

Héloïse is thinking still. "If I'm alive in the future, though, it must be OK? We must win."

A shake of the head. "That's not how it works. There is no inevitability. Any one of a thousand decisions we've already made could change everything." 

"I've done it," Sarah says. "I've changed the future. Course it caught up with me anyway, just different. So are we fighting this thing or what?" Sarah picks up one of her guns, examines it. 

Héloïse looks back at Marianne, who has so valiantly been fighting and protecting on her own, carrying this knowledge, this responsibility. Which can be shared now, some part of that burden taken from her. "We can do it together," Héloïse urges. "Then we will be free."

"Legion is still out there."

"Then we'll fight that too." 

"You'll fight it all, I know." It feels like an agreement and Héloïse decides to take it as such. 

"We will," she says. 

"First of all," Sarah interrupts just before Héloïse gets lost in Marianne's gaze again, "do you even know how to fire a gun?"

Which is how Héloïse finds herself outside on Sarah's makeshift firing range. 

Marianne is watching with far too much amusement as Héloïse shoots at melons, melons who remain perfectly safe on their pedestals. "The Héloïse I know is a crack shot."

"Good for her," Héloïse grumbles. 

Sarah is only getting frustrated. Marianne rises, comes over to Héloïse and stands close. Héloïse has seen enough movies to know precisely where this is going and is equal parts thrilled and terrified. 

"Sink down, here." 

Héloïse feels hands on her hips. She loosens her stance a little. Marianne stands _so close_ behind her. 

Now Marianne's hands move to her shoulders. "Relax." 

Relaxation is not possible, under these circumstances. Héloïse makes an effort to drop her shoulders though is nowhere near relaxed. Certainly not as Marianne's hands run down her arms, cover her own clutching the gun. Marianne's arms around her, Marianne's breath on her neck, Marianne's voice low in her ear. 

Héloïse is beginning to see the appeal of weapons use. If all her tuition is like this it is no wonder future-her is good at it. 

Present-her is entirely too distracted. Marianne murmurs gently about recoil and wind velocity, but Héloïse can hardly take it in and the next shots go wide.

Sarah mutters not at all gently and presents Héloïse with a new offering. "You strike me as more of a brute force sort of gal. Here." 

Now this is what Héloïse is talking about. Something that almost needs hoisting onto her shoulder. She takes a sight and squeezes the trigger and everything she can see goes up in flames. No finesse necessary. "Yes, please," she says. 

"Of course, what you really need, to finish them, is a nice EMP. Fries them right up. Just so happens I've got one lying around. Had to do a whole lot of blackmailing for it though."

Héloïse can only imagine. She looks at Marianne, who is thoughtful. 

"It's not just weapons," Marianne says. "We need to control as many variables as possible. Choose our spot. Have a plan. Though, no plan survives contact with the enemy and that's especially true of Terminators."

"There's an abandoned airbase not so far. Big. Flat. Nothing for our guy to grab hold of and hit us with," Sarah says. "We set the place up properly and we're at an advantage." 

Marianne nods, though Héloïse thinks she is far from convinced. That might be to do with the very idea of this, rather than the specifics. 

The three of them, well, mostly Sarah and Marianne, discuss tactics though Héloïse does her best to keep up, this being the beginning of her new life, her new identity. Learning things from Marianne that she will, at some point, teach to a new, younger Marianne. 

A chill running through her as she realizes there is only one Marianne in that future. Not this one. She reaches out instinctively to reassure herself that now, at least, Marianne is here. When her hand touches Marianne's back Marianne turns and smiles at her, so reassuring, so... happy. Even though she knows, too, where their fate is leading them. 

There's no fate but what we make for ourselves, Marianne had said. Said that Héloïse said. Because Marianne had said it to her here, now. So that fate felt very fateful indeed. 

Marianne rubs Héloïse's arm. "Are you tired?"

Héloïse nods. She doesn't know whether she can sleep, she's not sleepy exactly, but tired, yes, right into her bones. Tired of thinking, tired of worrying, tired of everything. 

"Tomorrow, then," Sarah says. "I'll keep watch." 

Marianne takes Héloïse by the hand and leads her to the bedroom. And Héloïse wishes they were in another time, another place. 

They lie on their backs on the bed for the longest time. Between them, somehow, some betrayal by her body against the rational, controlled nature of her mind, the back of Héloïse's hand comes into contact with Marianne's. Fraction by fraction their fingers intertwine. 

Héloïse can't breathe. Her chest rises and falls, but no air enters. She's choking, crushed by the weight of everything. With unproductive, paralysing fear. With shameful desire. 

"Good night." Héloïse rolls over. Breathes out into the night, steels herself, squeezes her eyes tightly. Wants very desperately to speak into the silence, under cover of darkness, wants very desperately to turn back to Marianne.

But she can't. She can't find the words, she can't make her body move. She's so tired, so thrown into chaos, so mistrustful of herself.

Her father, the end of the world, it all seems so theoretical. But Marianne, she is here, she is so real, she has put herself in front of Héloïse so many times. Everything but Marianne is hazy, inconclusive, unproven. Or at least Héloïse can keep telling herself it is. As far as Héloïse can see, everything revolves around Marianne. And Marianne revolves around Héloïse. There's nothing theoretical about the risk and the danger is so palpable.

Now Héloïse knows about her future, Marianne's past, and struggles to reconcile them. Past and future. Leader of the Resistance and super-soldier. That Marianne has known Héloïse half her life. But, to Héloïse, Marianne is essentially a stranger. Marianne knew an Héloïse that marched around inspiring people into battle. Not an introverted academic who had never - and never wanted to - hold a gun. But Marianne was so patient with her, so gentle. Not a stranger at all. So much more.

With a strangled sigh of frustration, Héloïse shuffles back, quickly, before she can stop herself. Marianne, simultaneously the most and least real thing in her life. Solid, _heavy_ , warm. Comes into contact and nestles her back along Marianne's side.

"Still can't sleep?" comes the concern from behind.

Héloïse shakes her head. 

Marianne says nothing. Just very, very slowly moves closer, the bedsprings straining. She wraps her arm around Héloïse. Héloïse takes Marianne's hand, tucks their hands together under her side, between herself and the mattress, anchoring them there. Marianne moves closer, arranges herself right along Héloïse's back. So that Héloïse can finally sleep. 

...

The noises of the night have Marianne on high alert. The screech of an owl and, she can almost believe, the scuttling of its victim. Every little sound amplified and setting off alarms. It's a deer, she knows, but it could be him. 

The cause of all the concern sleeps peacefully in Marianne's arms. Marianne winches herself up onto one elbow. So she can see the window, the door. So she can see Héloïse. 

She remembers the first time she saw Héloïse. 

When Marianne was barely fourteen, alone in a world gone to hell. Héloïse had fought off the thugs that surrounded Marianne, then converted them to the cause. Crouched down in front of Marianne, asked her name. Marianne gave it, pulled back her hood. And Héloïse had looked at her and known her. And Marianne had fallen in love. 

Héloïse had realized, of course Héloïse had realized how Marianne felt. Marianne's youthful exuberance hid nothing. She got older and she waited. She passed twenty and she waited. She joined the troops because she wanted Héloïse not to see her as a child any more. She was supposed to have become something else, anything else, but she took a gun into her hands because she wanted to do something Héloïse didn't expect. But Héloïse didn't seem surprised, just resigned. 

"Please," Marianne had said. "Please. I love you. You know I love you." 

"I'm sorry," Héloïse said, "I'm so sorry," and turned away. 

But Marianne knew that in unguarded moments Héloïse looked at her like others on the base looked at her. Men and women that she took to bed, but who could never be Héloïse. She knew there was something holding Héloïse back, something that had been there right from the beginning. Not just the years between them. 

She turned twenty-five and she waited. Saw Héloïse's eyes on her across the room. Saw pain and sadness and anger, angry at Marianne for reasons Marianne could not understand, but that made her cry in the small hours of the cold, dark nights. 

It wasn't until Marianne lay dying in the corridor that she finally understood. Understood that she was dying, that her only chance now was the experimental augmentation program, that if she survived she would be the only person who could be sent back in time to die again. That Héloïse _had_ known her, had known _this_ her, in the past. Had known what happened. 

How Héloïse had raged when Marianne finally recovered from all the augmentation procedures and woke up half machine. Marianne had taken it, allowed it, enjoyed it, because it was a sign Héloïse cared. Then Héloïse had held her, kissed her. And Marianne had never been so happy. And as the machine had throbbed and hummed, warming up to send Marianne hurtling into the past, Héloïse had finally told Marianne she loved her. 

Then this Héloïse, so, _so_ different and yet so recognisable. Young and fierce and angry, yes, but different from her future self. Marianne realized how tired the Héloïse she had known was. Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Angry about that, angry about so many things. Angry at herself when she looked at Marianne. Not angry at Marianne at all, Marianne now so belatedly realized. At herself, for not being able to prevent this. 

But, looking at Héloïse now, Marianne has no regrets. Wishes Héloïse had not been so angry, so tormented on Marianne's behalf. Just been happy, for the time they had, with the time they had. As Marianne was now. 

... 

The plan is set over breakfast. Sarah is eager to move, concerned about the undoubtedly approaching Terminator, Marianne is precise, ready, but wary. Héloïse doesn't know how she is supposed to be. It's her call, to stand and fight, but she is contributing the least to the plan and being called on to do the least of the work in the plan. Other than that she might die, they might all die, on Héloïse's foolhardy decision. Trying to be a person she isn't yet.

Marianne tries to impress a backup plan on Héloïse. "He'll try to get me out of the way first. We can use that to our advantage," but Héloïse stops her. 

"No," she says quietly.

"We have to be realistic."

"I can't. I can't go into this thinking of that possibility."

Marianne is gentle, but firm. "But you know it is more than a possibility and I need to know you will be OK."

"I wouldn't be OK."

"You know what I mean." The look in Marianne's eyes, Héloïse thinks, sad, but buoyed, still, by the sentiment. "That you will survive."

"That it won't be for nothing?"

"It hasn't been nothing," Marianne says and Héloïse is the one buoyed now, by the simplest of words. "I need you to know, if that happens, that I have no regrets. Not about coming back, not about being here, not about doing this."

Héloïse can't believe it, but she believes Marianne and she nods with a choking feeling in her throat and tears in her eyes. 

Car doors bang outside and bring Héloïse back to the moment they have, now. Her hands have crept along Marianne's arms, they hold each other by the elbows, but Héloïse needs more. She pulls Marianne close and holds her, fierce, feels Marianne's hand cradling the back of her head, pulling her closer. 

"We have to go," Marianne whispers somewhere into Héloïse's neck and Héloïse nods, tears herself away. Tries to discreetly wipe her eyes. Marianne laughs fondly, runs a thumb over Héloïse's cheek, though her own eyes are brimming too.

"Let's roll!" Sarah shouts as they exit the house. 

Héloïse is directed to the back seat of the truck, sat alongside a stack of guns. Marianne sits in the passenger seat, holding a gun of her own for the first time that Héloïse has seen. She keeps alert eyes on the sky, on the woods, every so often on Héloïse. Sarah drives at breakneck speed along the narrow wooded roads. Héloïse keeps her eyes on Marianne. 

So when Marianne stiffens Héloïse is immediately aware of incoming trouble. "Someone's coming," Marianne says. "Up the road."

"Ranger?"

Marianne winds down the window and sits in the opening, causing Héloïse to yelp with alarm. Her head pops back in. "It's him."

"Fuck," Sarah says. "Right, off-road." She swings the car round and brakes, turns back the way they came for a moment until she pulls off on a dirt track. 

Marianne arranges herself in the window again, facing behind them.

"Marianne, please," Héloïse protests. But Marianne lifts her gun and starts shooting. 

"Following us, then," Sarah observes. 

Héloïse cranes around in the back seat to look out the rear window. She doesn't dare unbuckled her seat belt. There's a car, something official, a ranger or something. As they twist their way through the trees it comes in and out of view. Marianne has shot out a tire, but it continues. 

"How far to the airfield?" Héloïse asks Sarah.

"Too far," is the only reply. "There's a lumber camp up here though."

Héloïse makes a decision she feels wildly unqualified to make. "New plan."

"We haven't set anything up," Sarah points out.

Héloïse is already leaning forward, putting her hand on Marianne's leg. "New plan," she yells out the window. "Lumber camp."

Marianne doesn't take her eyes off her target, but she does nod. 

"A few minutes," Sarah calls. 

Héloïse returns to watching out the back. The car jolts violently, hits something on the path, but Marianne holds firm. 

Sarah mumbles expletives and Héloïse looks forward to see the heavy machinery coming into view. Piles of logs, huge eighteen-wheelers, a few small huts. Importantly, no-one around. Sarah pulls them round and Marianne takes more shots at the Terminator, his truck coming to a screeching halt as another tire goes and he loses control. 

They pile from the car. Sarah tosses a few grenades. Héloïse picks up her enormous gun. Marianne takes hold of her and moves her back behind a pile of huge tree trunks. "Please be careful," she says and turns to go back before Héloïse can say anything. 

The Terminator forms his arm into a shotgun, Héloïse watches the tendrils gathering. He's aiming at their car, where Marianne and Sarah are grabbing at weapons. Traps they hadn't had time to set, conditions they hadn't had time to turn to their favor. Marianne sees him though, pulls Sarah away as the blast knocks them from their feet. The car explodes, lifting from the ground, going up in flames. 

Héloïse is not hanging around. She runs to them, helps Sarah to her feet. Marianne is already on hers, blasting away at the Terminator. 

"The EMP," Sarah says, looking at the wreckage of the car. 

"We'll figure it out," Héloïse says.

Marianne is already advancing, but the Terminator swipes at her with a log, sending her barrelling into a stack of others. She bounces quickly back to her feet and scales the pile, releasing the straps holding them, sending them cascading down. 

Héloïse shouts over to her. "The EMP is gone."

Resolute and determined, Marianne does not seem surprised. She rams her shotgun between logs and unloads it. The Terminator springs out. They roll together over the ground. Next to Héloïse, Sarah tries to aim, but can't get a clear shot. 

Héloïse looks around. Starts sprinting in the direction of a crane. Into the control cabin and it doesn't matter that she doesn't know how to use it. The logs swing wildly and Marianne manages to position him close enough that he gets swiped. 

As he flies into the treeline Marianne goes to an enormous blue contraption and turns it on. Héloïse gets out of the crane and runs over. Sarah is already setting up a mini-turret a little way off. 

"Héloïse, listen." Marianne catches hold of her. "I have a power source. If you get it close enough it will fry his neural network. Like the EMP."

But Marianne is empty-handed. Héloïse looks her over, frantic. "You have, you mean _you_."

"My augmentations, I need artificial power. You can use it on him."

"And what happens to you?"

Marianne looks over her shoulder to check on the Terminator's reappearance. A shot whizzes over them from Sarah. 

"Marianne, what happens to you?"

"What I always knew would happen," she says gently. 

"No," Héloïse says. 

"Go to Sarah."

Héloïse wants to protest again, but the Terminator is coming, she cannot distract Marianne now. And the look Marianne gives her is so full, so pleading, that she can only do as Marianne says. 

More bullets fly overhead as she runs and takes cover in Sarah's little sniper's nest. She picks up a gun of her own and joins in, while he is far enough from Marianne at least. She watches helplessly as Marianne picks up a chainsaw and plunges it into him, but not before he has run her through with the spiked lance of his arm. 

Héloïse feels pulled forward, toward Marianne in sympathy, but Marianne appears to have the upper hand for a moment, grinding away at him. Sarah gets a few more shots in, pushing him backwards. Toward the gaping mouth and the spinning blades of the chipper. 

Marianne twists around him, the chainsaw at his neck. His arms fall limp for a second and she smashes it into his face. They are close to the chipper now, she forces him with blow after blow to step back, assisted by the occasional shot from Sarah when she can safely make them. Héloïse watches, barely able to breathe. The spear-like arms re-form at the shoulders and drive into Marianne again. She cries out and Héloïse must grip herself firmly in order not to go running over, much good it would do. But Marianne keeps up the advance, apparently a surprise to him as he pushes further into her, but is now precipitously close to the whirring blades. 

"Sarah, now!" Marianne yells and Sarah responds immediately, shouldering her biggest gun and taking the shot at him, never mind that Marianne is almost directly in front. Until she spins away and the impact of the blast against his metal skeleton pushes Marianne away and knocks him into the chipper.

Marianne scrambles away as the chipper shudders and grinds and a deep knocking noise emanates as it is unable to grind up the metal. "Again!" Marianne calls and Sarah does so. There's the blast of the missile, but then the whole machine goes up in a ball of flames. Marianne is obscured from view for the moment Héloïse remains upright until she ducks, or is knocked from her feet, it's hard to tell which. Debris flies around them and Sarah is knocked from her perch. Héloïse stays down for as long as she dares, all of a fraction of a second, until she is crawling toward the flames, toward Marianne. 

The closest pile of logs is ablaze, the fuel tank of the chipper is an inferno. Héloïse slides down, looks wildly around. "Marianne!" she calls. 

A figure looms. But it is Sarah. "Where is he?" she asks. 

But, "Where's Marianne?" is all Héloïse cares about, so they pass each other in the swirling smoke. 

Héloïse scours the ground and there, Marianne is on her side, trying with one arm to pull herself up. 

"Marianne," Héloïse exhales and drops to Marianne's side. Tries to take her arm to help her, but Marianne groans with the pain. Héloïse looks down at her. There's blood everywhere, she'd seen at least three attacks the Terminator had landed and now Marianne is burned from the blast as well as been thrown all this way.

"Get up, we have to go." Héloïse knows it is futile. She has to say it, has to try to believe it. This was her idea and now look. They can't outrun him with Marianne like this, torn apart. There's nothing left. One thing left. 

"It's OK," Marianne says. "Is he dead?"

"Sarah's looking for him."

"Check."

Héloïse scrambles to look round a hunk of twisted metal. Sees the ragged skeleton of the Terminator, one arm missing, one leg dragging, on fire, but moving slowly. Sarah is there, shooting at him, but he swats her away as easily as a fly. 

"Shit," Héloïse says. Goes back to Marianne, who already knows. 

"Take my power source." Marianne's hand creeps through the debris, clutches at a shard of glass. 

"No. There has to be another way."

There's the metallic creaking of the Terminator scraping its way toward them. 

"Héloïse, do it. Finish this." Marianne pressing the glass into Héloïse's hands. 

Héloïse, almost blinded by tears, takes the glass. Slips her other hand behind Marianne's neck, cushioning her, supporting her. Slowly, as if it were possible to be gentle, pushing the glass into Marianne's flesh, through the exoskeletal mesh reinforcing her. Marianne makes a very soft "Oh," sound and Héloïse closes her eyes for a moment as she pushes her hand inside, into Marianne, her fingers coming into contact with metal that she grasps and pulls. She opens her eyes, Marianne looks up at her, beatific, head straining back, body arching. 

"I'm sorry," Héloïse gasps as the power core slips from Marianne's body, Héloïse's hand covered in Marianne's blood. Shoves it into her pocket, hating herself. 

"I'm not," Marianne whispers, trying to reach for Héloïse. 

Héloïse moves closer. Marianne's shaking fingertips touch her cheek. Héloïse leans in, kisses her. Fingers gentle across Marianne's jaw, lips the most tender expression of everything she hasn't said. By the time she pulls away Marianne is already still, soft eyes gazing up at nothing, the most peaceful expression on her face. Héloïse sobs over her, tears leaving tracks over the dirt on Marianne's skin. 

The crunching sound is behind her. 

Héloïse spins around, raging, scoops up a gun from the floor. Stands and faces the shambling skeleton. "You took everything from me. Now I'm going to fucking kill you." She blasts the shotgun at him, he stumbles, lacking control, lacking strength. 

The blasts knock him sideways and Héloïse moves in. Hand gripping Marianne's power core, swinging, embedding it through the skeletal jaw and up into the head. He stands for a moment, this hideous approximation of a man. Approximate enough that his neural core is where a brain would be and Héloïse sees the flashing and sparking the power core creates. 

The energy that powered Marianne spreading through him, overwhelming him, destroying him. He collapses to his knees, lists sideways, sprawls on the floor. Héloïse watches the light fade from his monstrous red eyes. She stands over him, he makes no move, there is nothing there. 

Sarah sits up, takes in the scene. "Is he dead?"

"Yes," Héloïse replies, monotone, empty. 

"Marianne?" 

"Yes," Héloïse replies, the same. 

The wind begins to blow the smoke away. The fires are burning themselves out. The world is being revealed again. The world Héloïse is supposed to save, but how can she, now?

Héloïse stands in the wreckage of everything, of her life. 

"Héloïse!" Sarah calls her. She begins summoning the words to express to Sarah how little she cares, how little she cares about anything now. 

Then she hears coughing. Can recognize it, feels it in her chest, in her blood, in her heart. 

Héloïse runs, skids, collides into poor Marianne. Hauls her up to sitting and clings to her tightly. Marianne is clammy, breath labored, very injured. But alive. 

"You're alive," she says, more to herself. "You're alive. How?"

"Secondary power source online. You made a note." Marianne smiles as Héloïse strokes hair from her face, rests their foreheads together. "You did it. You killed a Terminator. I knew you could."

" _We_ did. We did it together. Marianne, I..."

There's no chance for any more. "OK ladies, that's great and all but we gotta get out of here. What's the plan?" Sarah is there to keep them on the matter at hand. But there will be time, now. They have won time, won a future. 

Héloïse looks at Marianne. "First, we steal a car. Second, we rob a pharmacy. Then, we save the world."


End file.
